


Twitterpated

by warschach



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Miscommunication, Polyamory, Shiro has a man bun and its perfect, Smut, buff! Lance, dirty smut, seriously you are warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 05:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8609821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warschach/pseuds/warschach
Summary: Keith had a problem.All right, fine; it was more of a dilemma.He liked his roommates, like A LOT, but here was the issue they're in a relationship with other each.Shit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> um, we have no fic with buff Lance (yall know i'm a slut for buff boys) and man bun Shiro so i fixed that. 
> 
> you can see i have no self control and i like to torture myself by writing unplanned 20k plus fic. 
> 
> and there's Spanglish in here b/c my spanish is very limited and i feel weird asking my parents for translations to do legit spanish on here. it's very basic but you can ask if you have questions.

Keith had a problem.

All right, _fine_ ; it was more of a dilemma.

 It had to do with his flat mates, Shiro and Lance.

 They weren’t spotty with rent, they spilt the bill with Keith on the internet and cable, they hit the occasional joint but Keith was a occasional pothead, they didn’t herd strays into their beds, no impromptu wild parties with the cop being called and their landlord notified. If they ate his food, they would leave a sad face on a post-it and then treat Keith later with a replacement or a meal. 

Lance respected his no smoking in the house rule to the letter— you could always tell when he was going to have one cause he wrapped himself in thick layers in the fall and winter and went out in tight ass boxer briefs during the summer before he squeezed through the window and plodded down on the fire escape with his legs dangling freely over the edge as he propped his chin on the rail.

Shiro restricted his excess cleaning to everywhere in the place but Keith’s room. He did that once without letting Keith know and long short story, Keith spent an hour trying to find his charger. He was anal when it came to his own stuff, so no touchy.

Lance rigorously cleaned and feed Blue, his chunky solid grey tabby with golden eyes. Though she still liked to beg Keith for scraps of his tuna or salmon. Which he would bitch and grumble about loudly and demand Blue to go annoy Lance but then she would fold her ears and soften her eyes and bring up her two front paws in a clap.

And that was it, Keith was her bitch.

Tuna all day, every day for Ms. Manipulator.

You should see the obscene amount of tuna cans he went through each week because of her, what an evil precious kitty.

So, yea— great guys.

Lance could make Keith laugh the entire day away, have him laugh until his stomach was about to explode, bring tears to his eyes from his stupid antics and witty commentary.

 Also, please don’t mention that to Lance cause then he would never shut up and Keith didn’t have the psychological strength for a life like that.

Guy could talk your ear off if you let him.

Shiro was the designated dad— the one you wanted to fuck but not your _dad dad_ , nevermind.

 Needed a lift, Shiro was your man. Had a shit day and needed to cry (see Lance for rants), Shiro had you. Felt under the weather, Shiro made you herbal tea and homemade chicken noodle soup for you, tucked you in bed, and regularly checked in on you. And he had this funny thing he did when he laughed really hard, like almost a piggish snort. And the first time he heard it, Keith nearly passed on to the next life.

It was so cute and so disarming coming from a buff guy like Shiro.

He and Lance’s laughter doubled whenever the sound came out of Shiro and they were both too kind to bring up the quirk to the guy. Fuck it. So big, hunky Shiro snorted like a little piglet, who cared.

So again, what was this _dilemma_ Keith was having in regard to his flat mates?

They were together.

Like a couple.

A illegally hot couple who made out on the fucking sofa in a burrito fashion so only the top of their head poked out, something that amazed Keith when Shiro had six feet and ripples of muscles that stretched out all his t-shirts. Their neighbor asked Keith if Shiro shopped at the baby Gap for his clothes and then thanked a number of deities for it. And Lance was actually starting to fill out from the months of body training under his boyfriend guidance, granted he didn’t have the same broad, barrel chest like Shiro but his pectoral were iron hard and his abs made Keith want to cry. He had that infuriating V on his pelvis that dipped past the dark trail of pubic hair into his loose fitting jeans.

Keith thought about taking the pillow from his bed and smothering them both while they were in burrito form just to spare himself the misery and the heartache but Lance would wiggled his head and try to escape.

So he would sit on the arms of the sofa and silently watch whatever movie Lance popped in that night.

8 times of out 10 the movie was a Batman film, fucking nerd.

Okay, so they’re a couple and how was that Keith’s problem?

Keith liked them both.

Like both of them at the same time.

Like he wanted to be squeezed in between their bodies on winter nights where the days grew shorter and the air nipped your flesh. Wanted to have Shiro one side and Lance on the other and to feel their deep breaths fan over his face, for their bodies to shift and conform around Keith, to have Shiro’s obnoxious snore and Lance’s rancid morning breath, to be in arms that cared for him. To be the third symbol to their little equation of love that very few people ever figured out. Cause whenever you caught one of them watching the other without an awareness of an audience, a fondness so un-fixed, so raw, showed openly on their face— like _damn, how did I get you?_

And Keith wondered the same from the side line with a black hole vacuuming all the air in his lungs and his heart plummeting hard as lead in his gut like, _when did I fall for you two assholes._

Keith did the math on that word problem and compiled a list of incidents titled, _how these two assholes made me like them._

[x]

 

 

Exhibit A

 

There was a specific event dated on July of last year, Chicago landed its first 90 degrees of the summer and in the middle and poorer class communities kid pried open the fire hydrates and jumped into the high pressured water, water flooded the streets as kids hopped out of way of passing cars to the side. Keith passed at least three blocks filled with the sound of rushing water and thought about going in himself at least once. Then didn’t, he had a new phone he’d purchased a while ago and his mp3 was already on the frizz and anymore exposure to moisture would kill it.

He got up the thirteen floors of their complex and shuffled into the flat about to keel over from dehydration.

Moving to the kitchen with the single purpose for frigid water, Keith glossed over the two idiots dressed in sand colored rags they jacked off an extra from a bad medieval show on Sci-Fy. He opened the freezer and bathed in the cool air. Turned around to get some of that arctic air on his drenched back and then squinted at Lance.

Or who he was certain was Lance. He had the right complexion— richly caramel and delicious—, the set of eyes that mimicked the erotic shore waters of Mexico —brilliantly blue and striking—, and the correct proportion to height and muscle mass. Except this guy had a platinum blonde wig on that touched the middle of his back and the last time he saw Lance, the dude had that stupid undercut.

“That bad?” The blonde asked.

That was Lance’s voice too. “What the fuck are you guys doing?”

Lance fixed Shiro’s black wig so that the hairline sat naturally on his head. The long ponytail swooshed down to the start of Shiro’s ass and was decorated with golden bells. “Going to con, remember?”

Allura, Lance’s older sister, sauntered from their bathroom over to the sofa and perched on the coffee table and lined Shiro’s grey eyes with liner.  She was unrecognizable in that flowing red wig and the cherry bomb crimson gown. A choker looked to be made of hard metals wrapped around the column of her neck. The blues of her eyes popped out bright against the red.

She waved, the long sleeve of the gown trailed the motion elegantly.  “Sup Keith.”

“You guys are like, what, twenty-two? And you’re dressing up.”

“This one hasn’t seen the Lord’s light,” Allura said, tone regal and posh.

Lance laughed and Shiro fought strongly against the inclination to do the same.

Keith lifted the back of his shirt, a damp stain darkening the middle of it, and groaned in relief. “And you guys are…?”

“I’m Dany. Shiro’s Drogo, my khal. And Allura is evil bitch— oh wait. Did you forget to dress up? You’re supposed to be something you’re not, silly goose.”

Allura capped the pen of the liner and pinched Lance. “That’s funny coming from my little brother who’s wearing a dress and expensive Revlon makeup.”

“Dude,” he hissed and rubbed the skin.  “And I’m killing it, by the way.”

Waves of crimson locks spilled over her shoulders. “I’m the red priestess, Melisandre.”

“Basically she’s a bitch. It’s so hard to tell when it’s my sister or the chara—“

Allura drove her elbow into Lance’s gut. He coughed violently as she fixed her hair and wiped her red painted nails over the bottom of her crimson gown.

“So you’re that blonde girl.” Keith asked.

Lance nodded. “A very hot one, yes.”

That was a given but not the point so…“And why do you have an avocado painted with red shimmer?”

Lance clutched the fruit to his chest protectively. “Excuse you, this is my dragon egg.”

“Oh. Okay, Let’s pretend I get that, why an avocado?”

Lance caressed the e _gg_ tenderly. “Cause I sat on the paper mache dragon egg I made a month ago and this is the only thing we have that has the right shape. Plus I have no time to make a new one, the last one took me a month to make and we have con in a hour.”

His face went blank. “Oh.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying ‘oh’,” he defended.

“Yea but it’s that Keith ‘oh’. Like ‘oh, I think you’re stupid.’”

“That’s every day though.”

“Okay then shut up.”

“Alright, I think we’re good to go,” Allura announced, standing up.

Shiro groaned and popped the stoic joints in his neck, “Thank god.” Heavy coverage of eye shadow darkened the softness of his eyes and brought an lethal edge of authority to his face.

Few men could pull off make up and long hair but these two assholes were doing it casually.

“Aw, look at my Khal,” Lance stretched over the arm of the sofa and kissed Shiro chastely on the lips.

“We should take pictures.”

“Hell yea.”

“Hey Keith, could you?”

Keith grumbled, “Yea, yea.”

Keith used Lance’s phone and took pictures, one of each person by themselves, then all three of them together, then just Lance and Shiro, then of Lance and Allura. The last picture was of them posed like the girls from Charlie’s Angels with Lance in the middle, his hand formed gun close to his face, flanked by Shiro and Allura.

They looked like a rock band that crashed and burned in the 80s.

 

 

[x]

 

 

Exhibit B

 

Lance liked to sing. An annoying quirk for some people because not everyone had a nice voice let alone one that sounded good carrying out stretched notes, except Lance had a unfairly attractive voice and years of vocal training under the mentorship of his mother.

 And Keith could get over a pretty voice like anybody else but Lance’s voce wasn’t pretty. It had the roar of a wave swelling in the water, the vertical growth of a liquid wall before it buckled under its own mass and pounded the wet sand. Each lyric brought the coastline, the soft beach, and the rushing surf to Keith daily and muted the day’s bullshit that made him want to drive fists into bricks.

 He could sit in the living room with the tv off and his own music paused while Lance mopped the kitchen and sang out whatever crap he wanted and he would never tire of it. Could sleep right there cause his voice elicited desire but a deep, consuming serenity in Keith.

He did fall asleep a few times and woke up an hour later with a fuzzy sheets carefully draped down his body and the lights off so he wouldn’t be disturbed. And yet the lack of Lance’s voice always jarred him from the peaceful slumber he’d fallen into.

A lot of times Lance sang in Spanish, something by _Selena_ or _Thalia_ , and the other times it was most recent song playing on every radio station across the country.

Today it was _Closer_ by _The Chainsmokers_ and Shiro was performing along with Lance.

Lance tipped the broom and belted out the lyrics.

Shiro, on the other hand,  sang in nearly perfect pitch as he danced awkwardly. He was the _worst_ dancer out there, dude had no rhythm.  

Lance dropped to the floor in laughter at Shiro uncoordinated shuffle.

Shiro shuffled over and pulled the Carlton and Lance started to cry, wiping away the tracks trailing down his flushed cheekbones before he got to his feet and took Shiro’s hand.

He mouthed something drowned out by the music and guided Shiro into a slow, sensual dance.

It took Shiro a few tries to master the steps and the proper beat but he got around to it at some point and the song eventually ended and switched over to the next track on Lance’s mp3.

And it was so easy for them to be in love, to be tender and gentle to each other, to carry the other’s weakness and make it their strength, to smile as though the entire world filled their heart and lungs— and Keith was happy to see the love that only novels, sonnets, and love song expressed beautifully in real life. To know something like that was out there and possible to have. It gave him hope. It reminded him that relationship weren’t quick blowies or disheartened dates. That not everyone wanted a easy fuck but your heart and soul, all you had to offer.

He didn’t think that shit was real.

And now he knew and it pounded fiercely in his heart.

 

 

[x]

 

 

Exhibit C

 

Shiro jumped at every horror movie orchestrated jump scare and hid his face behind his hands like that would do any good or put his face to Keith’s shoulder until the danger had passed.

Ironic, when Shiro could lay out any foe out there.

 

 

[x]

 

Exhibit D

Lance was petrified by bees or any bug with the advantage of aerial support.

If a moth flew into their flat, Lance locked himself in his room until the creature was removed from the premises.

 

 

[x]

 

Exhibit E

Shiro wore fuzzy socks during the winter. They were women’s socks, he might add, and they looked tight on his giant feet.

 

 

[x]

 

 

Exhibit F

Lance engaged in full dialogue with Blue and the grey tabby responded to Lance’s voice with a variety of meows that probably was her begging for a can of wet food.

He rolled his eyes whenever Lance walked in and asked Blue if she was a good kitty while he was away. She said, “Meow.”

And Lance took it as a yes.

 

 

[x]

 

 

Exhibit G

Shiro organized all his clothes by color. That went for his bookshelves as well.

 

 

[x]

 

 

Exhibit H

Lance wore shirts with cat puns.

His favorite included a douchebag tank top with a cat wearing sunglasses and the words below, _Check Meowt._

 

 

[x]

 

 

It sucked. Having a list of events, traits, quirks that endeared them to Keith. To list the gradual decent of infatuation to longing.

Nothing was going to happen. Not that Keith was oblivious to polygamous relationships, he did some research because even someone as emotionally remote as him got lonely too, and he read up on personal stories and the internet quick how to guides.

And yet—

It was like this inherent knowledge in you, some people win the lottery. Not you. People like you didn’t win it. People like you didn’t rise to the top, didn’t change the world, make a name, become loved and adored by your peers— it happened.

 Just, not to you.

Not to Keith.

His luck didn’t run that good.

It was fine. These feelings would pass and besides they were outgrowing this roommate thing anyway, eventually Shiro and Lance would want their own home to start their own version of the Brady Bunch. Keith would become a reference point in their timeline, a memory, a passing thought— _hey, do you remember that one guy we lived with? Wonder how he’s doing?_

And it reverse would be likewise for him. _I was in love with my roommates once. Nothing happened with us but I hope they’re doing good._

He pushed away the thought. Yea, maybe that would be how they parted, how the end of their friendship came to. Whatever.

Right now, he still had them. They were waiting at the flat for Keith to show up with food so they could finally watch a crappy film Lance took a chance on at the RedBox. It was probably a C-listed movie or worse, since Lance had really bad judgement when it came to selecting movies.

The pizza was still warm. The two liter he picked up at the convince store still weighed down the plastic bag. His inbox was packed with minute old texts from Shiro and Lance, they liked to text him separately to drive Keith up the wall cause his phone had the fucking shitpile of notification tones and it was too bootleg for him to download some credible sounds. So he hated unnecessary texts.

His phone chimed.

_Lance_

_Yo hoe, where u at?_

_Shiro_

_Lance said to tell you that you are a slut. You’re not. But he’s reading over my shoulder. I must send this._

See, why the fuck was he moping around?

He had this.

He liked this.

He was good.

Texted back Lance first cause he knew if he didn’t get to work on one, Lance would blow up his phone.

_First, you’re the hoe. Second, I’m a block away._

Then texted Shiro.

_Tell him I said he’s going to get a spanking from daddy if he don’t quit his shit._

Keith was back with them in five. Closed the door with the sole of his shoe and balanced the pizza box and the bags as he fiddled with the deadlock. Blue lazily padded to the door and walked in between his legs and meowed.  He told her hi back and she sauntered back the way she came.

The night was chilly so Lance, naturally, unearthed every soft blanket they had stored in the closet and spread them across the floor, added the pillows from their beds as cushions, and then used a thicker sheet to drape over their bodies. He saw Shiro and Lance’s blue lit faces, the rest was lumpy mountains of sheets.

Lance made a grabby motions at Keith. “My darling, I was so worried.”

“I wasn’t gone that long,” he said.

“I’m talking about the pizza—hey, come on. I’m kidding. Please give me the pizza, I’m starving.”

Shiro’s long arms went over Lance and Keith gave the box to him.

Lance pouted and lifted the lid and got a mouthwatering whiff of cheese pizza before Shiro swatted his hand and closed it. “Today’s a cheat day.”

“You said that yesterday too.”

Lance got creative, dipped one hand under the blanket and a sleazy smile curled nasty on his face as Shiro stiffened and got pink in his cheeks. “Be nice to me.”

“You are a menace,” Shiro muffled down a sound that would definitely haunt Keith’s wet dreams tonight.

Keith went into the kitchen on the pretense of chilling the liters. But Lance’s damn voice carried, like a swell curling in on itself.

So did the sound of Shiro’s easy surrender, the sound of lips meeting and meeting, and then Lance’s soft squeak of victory and the happy munch of food stuffed into his mouth.

He shelved it, pinched a cold beer between his index and middle finger, and read the label. A fantasy played in his mind, vivid and lewd, and he was on the other side of Shiro and his hand joined Lance under the covers and they both pull Shiro’s thick cock out—

Yea. Time for beer.

Keith twisted off the cap, aimed for the recycle bin, and fell into the sofa. He could see the back of Shiro and Lance’s head from here but he focused on the trailers running on the screen.

Wordlessly, Lance flung a small throw and Shiro shoved a pillow between Keith’s head and the arm of the sofa. Then they went back to eating greasy food with Lance’s awful but amusing commentary and voice overs.

They made it easy to forget that he wasn’t a part of cause they always made him feel like he was.

The third symbol to their equation. The third corner of a triangle.

Shiro, Lance, and Keith— one couple.

 

 

 

[x]

 

 

Next week was better. Shiro and Lance kissed over scrambled eggs, hansbrown, charred toast, and brown coffee and Keith didn’t feel as bothered by it. Not emotionally. Not like he was being gutted, flayed, and set on fire all at once.

Desire churned up, though. Started like a tiny spark and grew thick and heavy in his balls until his cock got a similar thickness too.

Hard not to because they had so little on in the morning and so much skin. Shiro’s milky and sweet. Lance’s bronze and rich. The grey in Shiro’s eyes absorbed the early morning sun and reflected shiny metals around his dark pupils. Lance’s found unearthly shades of electric blue and imprisoned Keith with their convincing lie that he could dive into the crystal clear depths and never see the bottom of the world.

Shiro’s raven hair went all over. for a while he kept it trimmed short and did little to it aesthetics wise, now it dripped to the thick muscles of his shoulders. Stubble shadowed thinly down the line of his jaw.

He squinted and rubbed his eyes, body still sleepy. He had the decency to wear cotton pants but no shirt because who else would sexually frustrate and torment Keith if not him.

Lance…he didn’t give a fuck for—

Anyone.

 Shiro’s well-being.

 Keith’s.

Not a single fuck given as he glided from the bedroom, a fist rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, in tight boxer briefs with bed hair—they’re the ones with SpongeBob face smiling on his ass—and bent over the counter top and popped his ass out.

Like popping it. A _I know I have it, have a look_ pop.

Shiro checked him out, eyes dunk in heat, face lewd with arousal. Teeth biting into his plush lips like he wanted to pull down those shorts and grind his cock between his ass cheeks.

Or maybe he was projecting as he looked too, feeling vaguely pervy cause SpongeBob smiled back at him and all Keith wanted was to rim that plump little ass for his last meal.

Then kind of wished they’d overlook his presence this once, they’re annoying and sweet like that where Keith wasn’t the third wheel, and be nasty.

All those months at the gym showed up as defined, cut lines down the slope of his spine. Dimples appeared right over the space above his ass. Keith could map out each muscle now as they touched the surface of his skin in hard planes.

He twisted around, placed both hands behind him, and hefted himself on the counter and kicked out his legs. Dust mites hovered over him like fairies and that feeling sledgehammered back into his gut.

Like, _thought you’ve seen the last of me? Surprise, bitch._

God damnit.

Blue looked up at Lance’s flying feet, wiggled her butt, and flew to the counter top. Narrowly avoided sliding into the backsplash.  Lance cackled, “Close call, huh? Who’s my pretty girl? Who almost knocked their ass out? Yes, that’s you.”

Shiro buttered his share of toast of clicked his tongue at Lance. “You’re teaching her bad manners.”

Lance curled his fingers under Blue’s chin. Her eyes fluttered close in bliss. “It’s her lion instinct. The counter is pride rock and she must be king.”

“Get your ass down,” Shiro shook his head, laughing softly.

Lance nudged Blue off his lap and hopped down, crunching down on the freshly buttered toast. “Not burnt enough.”

“Yes because that was my toast, you thief.”

Lance turned, eyed Keith’s plate, and he had no time to react with those eyes before Lance preyed upon him. “I was going to eat that,” he growled, semi distracted by the cleavage of Lance’s chest pressed to the table.

Lance moaned, butter glossing the corners of his mouth. “Perfection.”

Keith looked past him to Shiro and gestured wildly, “Excuse me but your man is stealing my shit. Again.”

Shiro ate in peace, humming. “Sorry. Too busy not getting my food stolen to hear you.”

“Dude.” His arms hung out helplessly.

“Keith, why does your food always taste better?”

“Cause you’re a dick who feeds on chaos and anarchy,” he answered.

Shiro supplied, “Someone people just want to watch the world burn.”

He scoffed, “Wow. I was going to say because I love you but nah, screw you.” He shot a glare at Shiro. “That goes double for you, pal.”

Do. Not. Read into that.

Shiro’s broad shoulders rolled. He piled eggs, beacon between two toasted slices. “That’s okay. Keith can take over for a few days, I don’t mind.”

Um.

Wanna say that again?

Fuck, he was blushing and it wasn’t from the way Lance sucked crumbs off his fingers.

“That’s kinda gay.”

“Yea. And we are all kinda gay too. Funny. Besides, I’ve seen your dick. You’re doing very well for yourself.”

Keith covered his face, mumbled into his hands. “Oh my god.”

“So sex wise there will be no problem. And you’re already my best friend and I love you so we good on the emotional side as well.”

“Um, Shiro,” Keith pleaded, voice parched.

Lance kicked at his chair until he could wiggle through the space from the table and Keith’s lap and planted his ass on it.

Keith’s hands hovered at his sides, this was a problem.

But also there was no better feeling than Lance’s fat ass pressed teasingly close to his dick. The mass from weight training weighing him down hard on his thighs. Lance’s toned back, warm, rolling heat waves that seeped into the cotton of his shirt. His sweet cologne in the air, the one with the scent of paradise flowers on the white beaches of remote islands with their crystal clear bodies of water.

“Lance really likes having his ass smacked so be sure to get that in early,” Shiro said but Keith registered it as though it came off from a great distance.

His mind was pretty busy with the whole Lance and his delicious butt on his lap situation.

So leave a message after the tone.

“That’s not the only thing I like,” Lance purred, plucked a strip of beacon off his plate, and sneaked a suggestive look over his shoulder. “But you’re going to have to learn just like Shiro.”

 

 

 

[x]

 

 

So that was his morning.

“Why would they say that? Why, does god hate me or am I fucking unlucky? Maybe I’m cursed.”

Pidge sucked on her straw, playing off her phone. “Read between the lines, Keith. You’re a shitty gay. Honest. If I didn’t see your ass at pride wearing rose pasties over your nipples, I would revoke your card.”

Keith was very tempted to slap that phone out of her hands if he wasn’t positive Pidge would bite him. “You fucking mixed tequila and vodka. I would have probably blown a lamp post if I was horny enough.”

“Nah. You did. We stopped you after a while cause it was kinda sad.”

Shay giggled. She was Puerto Rican and thick where it proved it. At her thighs and chest, her body slimmed out at her waist and calves. She had that enviable hourglass shape, glossy black hair, and honey eyes.

“Then Shay gave her panties to an old guy on the Red Line.”

She snapped her head up from where she was reading over her index cards, earrings swaying. “You’re lying.”

“No you did,” Pidge set her phone on the table and leaned back in her chair. “Remember those pink ones you got from Victoria’s Secret.”

“Oh fuck,” she groaned. “That’s why I can’t find them.”

“Yea. I don’t when or how you did it but you got them off and just handed them over,” Pidge continued.

Hunk tried to tune out their conversation by politely reading a book.

“Kinda?” Keith asked, redirecting the conversation.

“Mostly I thought it was funny. You called him Norman Reedus. ”

Shay grinned, “To be fair we would all blow Norman Reedus. Darly is my life and soul.”

“Even Hunk?”

Hunk lowered his book, “Please leave me out of this.”

Shay turned in her seat and touched Hunk’s forearm. “Baby, but if you were gay and Norman Reedus wanted you, would you?”

“I love him in Walking Dead but I wouldn’t— Why am I a part of this?” He whined.

“Because I’m your girlfriend.”

“And you want to know if your boyfriend would blow another guy?”

She smiled, hazel eyes rich with honey and thick hair brushed delicately over the apples of her cheek, You saw the precise moment Hunk lost his balls. “Fine. I would. Happy, you little perv?”

“Extremely,” She planted her glossy lips over Hunk’s chapped one and smiled into the kiss before she added a little tongue.

Pidge and Keith exchanged a scandalized look. “We’re still here.”

Then Hunk chased her tongue with his and ran a hand into her neck and into the short ends of her hair.

 “Oh my god,” Pidge gawked, mouth opening. “I think they’re turned on by Hunk blowing Norman Reedus.”

 

 

[x]

 

 

_Read between the lines._

What lines should he be reading cause Lance and Shiro blurred them all.

He didn’t read anything. Went to class, attempted to stay awake through the lecture, he blinked into a quick sleep twice until he physically peeled his eyelids back, packed his notes. And then walked to the other building on the campus, killed five minutes as he waited for his professor to show up by texting Shiro about his shift at the gym and then Lance about the vocal practices and piano training at his tio’s studio, and got back to keeping waking and keeping up with power point slides and his cramping hand. Got through his afternoon shift with three customers giving him shit and asking for his manager.

He was home by 9:50 and there wasn’t a part of his body that didn’t ache.

It was tough, the whole full time classes and part time work but he reminded himself it was a temporary and that it would be for now.

Lance surfed through channels by himself which meant Shiro clocked out early for the night. Keith slipped his jacket on the hook, dropped his keys in the dish, and left his messenger bag against the wall. Fuck it, he was his senior year, he could afford to be reckless with those overpriced textbooks.

Soon he wouldn’t need them and could pawn them off Amazon for half the price.

He collapsed next to Lance, burying his face into his bulky arms. “How you doing, buddy?”

“Tired.”

Lance ruffled his hair kindly, then set his hand back down over his knee. “You should quit. At least until school finishes.”

Keith grabbed his hand, positioned it into his hair, and let go. He bumped it until Lance got the idea and started massaging his scalp.

 “Not letting you guys pay rent,” he mumbled, face squished into Lance.

Lance had a weird gift of entering Keith into a dual dimension where he didn’t exist while existing and he was doing it again. Putting Keith on Jupiter’s rings. Odd when Shiro possessed most of the Zen out of the two and Lance never bothered to pick up a dictionary and look up the word chill.

“We’re the only ones not going to school and working,” he worked his fingers down the back of Keith’s head and combed back up to the spot behind his ear and drew lazy circles. “Seriously, me and Shiro can manage a few months.”

He protested, voice a low rumble. “No.”

“You’re a huge dick. I’m trying to be considerate and you’re making that hard—”

He cut him short. “Thank you.”

“ _Da nada_. Want me to make you _manzanilla_ tea?”

“That would be cool, yea.”

Lance made to move but Keith refused to.

 “Pet me first,” he demanded, hand extended to for Lance’s skilled ones, the one he watched dancing over the black and white keys of a piano, ones that strummed the occasional guitar string.

They pressed over the spot that rebooted Keith’s entire mainframe, his mind whited out on the divine sensation.

He was not reading into the easy, natural slot of his body to Lance’s; and he was not counting the dull thumping of Lance’s heartbeat. They’re buds and plus Lance tended to thrive on physical affection so it was a bud petting.

 

 

 

[x]

 

 

Blue was into a fat ball behind his kneecaps so when he felt bumped the back of it and got a soft meow, he knew his two roommates already left for their morning run. They invited Keith but they did this shit every Sunday, like did they not know Sunday was the universal lazy day.

So he passed on that.

Sorry Keith needed his z’s and his bed was nicer company than pavement under his feet, the throng of Chicagoans on either side of him, and the _you’re hot, you’re cold_ weather of the city. Anyway, he could not physically run and watch sweat glisten tracks down Shiro’s face or Lance’s bouncing pectorals and knee short basketball trunks.

It was quiet in the flat, empty without Lance’s singing and the sound of Shiro cooking up breakfast at the stove. He unpeeled a banana, checked on Blue’s water and food dish, added a few ice cubs to her water and whipped out his college textbooks and got to work.

By coffee number four, Keith’s blabber started making a ruckus.

Initiating mass explosion in three, two, one.

He drank pure expresso and it going out of him faster than he sipped it so he stood over the porcelain throne for a few minutes, limp cock in his hand and the steady stream of piss hitting the water with his back to the door.

Which Lance barged into. He didn’t even give Keith the courtesy of a knock either— no, he kicked the door in and unlaced his sneakers, toed out of them, and pulled down his pants.

Keith looked back, then jerked back to the wall in front of him. “Dude. What the fuck?”

“Oh, sup.” Lance said from his bent position and untangled his long legs.  Shorts soared past Keith into the hamper tucked between the space of the toilet and the shower. Iron Man briefs followed next.

“I’m fucking peeing.”

“So you’re not using the shower. What, you’ve seen my dick like a thousand times.”

“Yea,” he seethed. “Because you keep doing shit like this all the time.”

“Okay then why are we having this conversation?”

“Cause I’m peeing.”

“Did you drink a shit ton of coffee?”

Keith growled, “Not the point. Can you not stand there and watch me?”

Lance sat his naked ass next to the sink and gripped the lip of the counter.  “I’m waiting for Shiro.”

“Do that _outside_!” His eyes watched his back on the mirror, saw the misting of sweat on it and the deep valley of his spinal cord.

There was a space distance from the counter to the ajar door, Lance sat back on his hands and used the purchase to poke out his long legs and test the temperature. “It’s cold out there,” he said as he closed the door with his foot.

“You’re the one who decided to get naked.”

“Man, you’re still going. It’s fucking impressive. I’m going to time you—“

“Don’t.”

He swiped through the apps on his phone and opened up the timer. The pressure was on.

Literally.

“And the clock is ticking,” Lance cheered. “How long can Keith Kogane pee, folks? That’s what everyone here wants to know. Can Keith break the Guinness World Record for longest piss ever?”

He whipped his head back, hair brushing over the bridge his nose, “There isn’t a record for that.”

“How would you know that unless… Unless you looked it up yourself and planned all of this so you would have an eye witness. Clever girl.”

“Do you want to have that phone inserted up your ass? “

Lance sucked on his lower lip. “I mean, personally I’m all for anal but I have to pass on the offer. Thanks for asking.”

“Every time you open your mouth, you’re going to get a dial tone that’s how far I’m going to jam it in you.”

“Will you at least lube me up? That sounds painful.”

“No.”

“I had no idea I was living with _Satan_.”

Shiro popped in, man bun in disarray, sweaty clothes clinging to his barrel chest and tree wide thighs. “God, I think Ms. Anderson used those butterscotch cookies so she could look at my butt. She made me check the inside of her oven and I know for a fact that there isn’t a single thing wrong with it cause I carried it into her apartment two months ago. Do not send her a Christmas card this year. Santa does not approve of false pretenses. Oh, did you drink a lot of coffee today?”

Keith dropped his head and cried. “How are you guys guessing that? How?”

Shiro rolled his shirt from the hem to the top over his head and slingshot it for the hamper. “You left the tin of expresso open on the counter again. Don’t worry, I put the lid on it.”

Keith could see the laborious breathing of Shiro chest through the mirror’s reflection. The hair on his chest was damp and sticky with perspiration.

Shiro started on his shoes and shorts as Lance unapologetically bit his lip and cocked his head. He whistled when the underwear pooled around Shiro’s ankle while Keith wondered what damage would do done to his dick if he got a boner as he peed.

The clothes landed with a wet smack into the hamper.

“Dude! You’re nearly at a minute. Go, go, go.” He pumped his fist. “Free the pee.”

“Go shower!” He shrieked.

“He’s right,” Shiro interjected. He pulled Lance into a wet lip lock and groped his ass. “Get your butt in there, you stink.”

“I thought you liked it nasty, baby.” He hopped down, fucking sleazy with a grin.

Shiro jerked a firm finger to the shower. “You will get the worst ass pounding of your life if you don’t get in right now. And I don’t mean the good kind, you little pervert.”

“Yes, daddy.” Lance yanked on the plastic curtain with fading prints of soaring dolphins.

Keith took two shakes and got the fuck out of Dodge but not without glimpsing twin smirks on his roommates’ faces.

 

 

 

[x]

 

 

“Bullshit,” Pidge denied.

She stepped on the bottom shelf to gain some height and swatted pathetically for a box of mac and cheese.

Keith extended his arm half way, “I can—“

She hissed at his reaching hand. “Fuck you, I can get it.”

Pidge hiked a leg up and moved to the shelf above. “If you fall and break your shit then it’s your fault and we’re still going to the movies, body cast or not. I need it.”

“Like you need a dick,” she muttered to herself.

“What was that?” He snapped, her comment actually did not go unheard since she said it in that stage whisper voice where you intended your bitchy as comment to be heard.

“I am busy!”

“I think god put that so high because he knows you’re a bad person and he wants you to suffer.”

“Coming from the guy who’s in a sexless relationship with his two roommates, who are —by the way— fucking trying,” she strained on her tip toe and slapped her Hobbit fingers on the corner of the box, it tipped slightly closer to the edge. _Slightly_. “To fuck you.”

The shelves appeared to Keith to be rattling under Pidge’s weight, he moved out of the impact zone, feeling way safer as he watched the back of Pidge’s head bobbed.  “How am I in a relationship with them?”

“You fucking cuddle—“ She lunged for the box, missed it, hung her head and panted heavily against the shelves.

The designated look out, he scanned down the aisle and saw no red shirt employees that would call security on them.

“My bitch face has no bearing on my need to cuddle.”

Her head rotated, eerily slow like the little girl from _The Exorcist_. Her eyes glowed yellow or that could be the industrial lights illuminating her eyes. “I don’t cuddle.”

“Yea, you’re heartless. I know that.” He chewed on his straw, the coffee at the bottom of his cup run through with water from the dissolving ice that it lost its flavor.

“Why would someone with a boyfriend cuddle a guy who’s not his boyfriend unless he liked him? And he does it in front of said boyfriend and no drama goes down. Yea, figure that out.”

“Shiro isn’t a jealous guy.”

“Or he doesn’t care because he wants the booty too—“ Her pointy nails nudged the box further from her grasp. “I will burn this god damn store to the ground. Why the hell do they put it so high? What about short people, huh? Do we not have rights?”

“Hey, I’m going to the movies. Try not to burn anything. Or at least text me so I can steal some expensive box sets.”

She watched the back of his head as he strolled down the aisle. “While you’re there, read a fucking book called ‘I’m Keith and I’m an idiot who doesn’t help short people and is in love with two dudes’.”

“I’m calling security on you.”

 

 

[x]

 

 

 

“Uno, bitches,” Lance shouted and pounded his card upside right.

Keith and Shiro looked to the single card pinched between Lance’s finger and then to each other. “He can’t win.”

“He won’t,” Shiro said, nodding solemnly.

Lance’s premature victory cheer faded as his boyfriend drew one of his cards and placed it on top of his.

“Draw four. The color is red.”

“No! I was so close,” he whined, drawing four cards. “God damnit.”

His boyfriend laughed,” I fucking knew you had no reds.”

“Yea cause Keith is helping you cheat your way to the champion round,” he accused.

Keith rolled his eyes from his prone position on the sofa and adjusted the pillow under his torso so he could look over the two dueling boyfriends more clearly. ”How did I help him?”

Lance glared down at his hand and cut the air with an odd hand gesture that probably had no human translation for the meaning. “You gave him that gay, Jedi mind reading look.”

“It’s true,” he agreed, poorly containing another smile. “The force follows through me whenever we look at each other. I am filled with the gay.”

“I hope you do win, Shiro. So I can kick your ass in the final round.”

“Do not fall to the dark side, Keith. They have cookies but are you really such a slut for cookies?”

Shiro’s humorous grin was infectious and didn’t help that he got these cute little dimples in the apples of his cheek. From across the table, Lance looked like a proud papa who just watched their little boy catch a ball.

They’re so cute and in love that Keith was not far beyond with his own version of one. “Look at what you did, Lance. Shiro sounds like you.”

“Sorry, I can’t contain this awesomeness. It touches all forms of like.”

Curling under the sheet and forming a malformed burrito with toe poking out the end, he countered. “Like a virus.”

“Or, maybe, love. You cynic.”

“Draw two,” Shiro called, his hair was in its perpetual state of man bun at work so the loose strands popped out of the rubber band and tickled its end over the arch of his ear.

“What the fuck, Shiro! Do you have all the draw cards?”

From his vantage on the sofa, he could confidently say yes, Shiro had all the draw cards. Poor Lance, he had no inkling of the storm brewing right in front of him. His eyes fall shut— he been up since about ten, had classes, and went to the store with Shiro for their weekly food run— and allowed their combined voices and energy lull him to that perfect center of tranquility. The nap wouldn’t last long, not with Lance’s loud outburst, but the volume in the room hushed down as though aware of his weariness, as though Keith could be given one silent night.

It was quiet.

But Keith never once felt alone.

 

 

 

[x]

 

 

 

Life was motions of progression. The steady up and down. Up, down.

 Woke up, ate, stood awake during his lecture, tried to remember said lecture, worked, movie night with the guys.

 Next day, woke up, ate Shiro’s kick ass Belgian waffles, clocked into to work, listened to Lance sing Spanish love song, TV night with Shiro since Lance had an early rise cause he was doing double the vocal training with Nyma.

 The day after was the weekend so it was a free for all because Lance wanted to do everything in Chicago that could be done and Keith had the energy of a senior cat so it was balance act for Shiro to please both parties. Which he did. Shiro was that guy. Dude who could do it all, and did it all effortlessly too.

Sometimes they shopped around Petsmart for wet cat food, cat nip, and cat toys that Blue refused to grace unless she was high off the nip. Lance perked up whenever he saw a dog, which spanned the entire length they’re there, and he developed an impromptu sense of apprehension. So Keith went over to each owner on his behalf, asked if his lame friend could pet their cute dog, and shook his head at Lance as he cooed and made kissy faces at the pooch.

 Then the routine happened again when a gigantic Great Dane followed its owner through the store and Lance instantly sought out Keith’s line of sight. Like, _hey I want to pet the dog. Take me to pet the doggie, now._

And the next stop was at a used book shop and Shiro practically beamed at the illuminated words as Keith navigated the parking lot. An easy hour passed inside cause Shiro loved to browse old books, to smell the years off their pages, and finger through the names of old and new authors until he needed two baskets to carry it all.

Shiro sat in the true crime section, legs crossed and a book thumbed at the halfway point. A recent scan of the place told Keith that Lance was over by the comics and in the process of pissing off another Marvel movie fan about the butchery of comic characters.

Keith plopped down, scooted his butt over the carpet, and read over Shiro’s wide shoulders. “Plan on committing the perfect crime?”

“Yes. I want to rob a casino. You are my muscle. Lance is the beautiful distraction.”

“So Lance is Brad Pitt, I’m Matt Damon, and you’re George Clooney?” Keith figured.

“Yes.”

Lance migrated to the true crime section, bored out of his mind. “Sup, homos. I think I made a thirty year old cry because I spoiled Game of Thrones and the Walking Dead. Does it make me an asshole if I’m derive a sense of sadistic joy from it?”

Shiro stuck his nose in another book, found a line, underlined it with his forefinger and said, “According to this, yes. Yes it does.”

“You do know your reading from a book about knitting so I don’t believe you.”

“You can read?” Shiro joked, flipping it over to the front and theatrically gasped at the realization of his error. “Oops.”

He bumped the bone of Shiro’s knee with the flat of his shoe. “I can read that _someone_ isn’t getting his dick sucked tonight.”

“Can’t go a day without disrupting the alignment of the cosmos, huh?”

The afternoon glow glared through the store’s windows and it added bends of light to the slope of Lance’s neck that turned it lethal, put some molten chocolate in the strands of his hair like he could dip his fingers through and have it come away with sweetness. Played water effects to his lagoon eyes.  It was a trip— seeing waves in them but everything about these guys had Keith thinking he landed on some alien planet cause they were unreal in their perfection, kind in ways unbecoming of their appearance. The dense muscle on Shiro guaranteed a total meat head. A ego should tag Lance with his casual hotness, only partially true he had more awareness than straight up cockiness.

Lance braced on the end of the bookshelf and ran his fingers down the spines. His nails stumbled over the visible bends of use on the binding.

 “Sorry but I really like upsetting the cosmos. It’s my favorite activity next to Candy Crush and going commando,” he said, smile something that definitely ruptured the calculated placement of the stars and the planets.

Shiro had one to match and the rotation of the earth didn’t exactly halted to a complete stop, there was a hiccup, a stutter to the loop— night would come a minute shorter than planned.

Guess that was how it happened when you fell hard; one second your world was a uninterrupted stream of time and the next you were experiencing glitches— missing heartbeats, low gravity, the works.

 

 

[x]

 

 

Keith had a month. A month of deadline, papers, assignments, applications before his graduation. When he started, he counted the days. Mapped out how many years it would take him if he did full time, part time, what classes to get out of the way. He was ready four years ago and now the day was here and he was so far from being ready.

Like there was where the rift started, right?

Keith got his degree, then a real grown up job and Shiro and Lance went window shopping for houses outside the city with no tag along to him.

It wouldn’t be that abrupt and that was the killer part cause motions like that moved soundlessly, slowly until the rift was thirty meters wide and you weren’t even in the same zip code anymore.

The letters on the application blurred together the longer he stared, unblinking, at it. Like filling out the boxes served the conviction and the sentence in one swoop.  Couldn’t manage the fucking date or the first letter of his name— just looked.

He snapped out of the staring contest when Shay and Pidge hefted their bags on the table. The pen in his hand rolled out and graced the edge.

Well since it was so far from his reach, Keith couldn’t possibly get started on his graduation application. Damn.

“I only have fucking twenty pages written for this thesis and my professor wants us to do another? I’m going to eat my own face,” Shay grumbled, face making swell friends with the table.

“I think eating your own face will be more interesting than your fucking paper. No offense.”

“What’s it on?” He asked, lifting up the hood of Shay’s sand colored pea coat, and checked her pulse.

Still alive, barely

“Dunno, what do English majors care about? Ernst Hemingway,” Pidge supplied

Shay turned her head, one side of her face squished and ridiculous to look at. Her lips puckered up and her nasally voiced sounded similar to Daffy Duck.  “I hope your experiment fails horribly and not the kind that gives you super powers.”

“Go work on your paper,” Pidge poked the exposed side of Shay’s face.

She groaned, “Fine.” And dragged herself out of the chair and over to the computers with her bag.

Pidge unzipped her bag and ripped a hole into a bag of Lays,  everyone in the immediate area gave her the stink eye, and crunched down on a chip, saying with her mouth full, “So have they nutted in you yet?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t ‘Jesus’ me. Confess your gay love or whatever, I’m tired of looking at your sexless face already.”

 

 

 

[x]

 

 

Shiro sported a pair of joggers and no underwear last night. Not that it bore any significance but Keith felt personally attacked.

Maybe Shiro was lazy as fuck that night as he laid back on the sofa, one leg hiked on the cushion and the other planted on the floor, and _spread_ himself lazily. It happened to be the correct angle for Keith’s breath to stutter when a shape pressed with the stretch.

Or, maybe Lance looked on with hooded blue eyes and a hungry smile when Keith saw the outline of Shiro’s flaccid cock against the cotton and mapped the bulge with red lips— yes, Keith was a bitter and he bit down as arousal coiled up hot and thick in his balls.

Then got to thinking, _I want my mouth on you, I want my mouth on you, I want Lance to watch me do it too. Want Lance to moan for some and beg when I don’t._

Maybe him and Lance were trading days to sexually frustrate him.

Maybe Pidge had some merit about his sexless face.

What he did know was what he palmed to later that night. Who was stroking his cock. Who was licking spit into his ass. Who was taking his cock. Who was shoving one up his ass. Clamped down on the moans of their names but his mind screamed it, _Shiro, Lance, Shiro, Lance— fuck me, suck me, take me._

[x]

 

 

“Graduation’s coming up,” Keith said out loud, eyes fixed on his plate.

Fuck it, it was out there. Let the cards fall where they may, he wanted out of his mind and in the real world.

A forked hovered an inch from Shiro marinara sauce smeared mouth. “Oh. Congratulation.”

Lance unsuccessfully tried to twine spaghetti with his fork. “Cool. Wanna do something? We can go eat somewhere fancy as shit like Olive Garden.”

“I thought I should just stay in.”

Dual forks clattered and a brief hushed silence ensured. Really brief cause two second later, Lance pounded his fist and said. “Fuck that. We’re fucking treating you, babe. Whole nine yards. We’re getting you a boat, we’re gonna sail the seas and shit, have drinks and vomit in the bathroom.  I swear to you, you will leave college in style.”

Keith started to protest, “You don’t—“

“Shut up, Keith. We’re taking you out,” Shiro decided in that commanding officer voice that donated shivers, and then chase strings of pasta with his mouth.  He got whacked with sauce when he slurped hard. “Minus the vomiting and boat thing.”

“Hey, I really want to rent a boat.”

Shiro pointed his fork at him, “Keith can’t swim.”

“So if he falls over board, I’ll save him,” Lance said earnestly.

“No sale,” he shook his head.

“But baby—“

“Nah, nah. I want you both healthy and not in the ER the next morning, so no.”

“Kill joy.”

“That’s not the only thing I know how to slay.”

Lance gaped, “Oh, you savage boy.”

“You know it,” Shiro agreed.

They high fived.

Horrid, these two.

They had awful table manners, neither ever heard d _on’t talk with your mouth full_ , and their napkins were tongue and glossy mouths. So fucking barbaric and here Keith was wishing to taste the sauce off Shiro’s strong chin, to eat the other end of pasta and finish the line to his lips.

 On top of that, they refused to let him stew like a hermit crab and decided he would get a trip to the stars on the big night.

Horrible people, why were they living together again?

Oh yea, he was gone on them.

Well guess he was having a party that night.

 

 

 

[x]

 

 

It wasn’t a big deal. Graduation was in shorrt you siting in a room full of people—half you knew sort of, fewer you shared personal conversations with, and the rest were the legends passed around on campus. Caesar went streaking around Michigan Lake after a bad trip and actually thwarted the cops. There was the infamous catfight between Racheal and Gloria, where Gloria laid down the law and a serious ass whooping, supposedly Racheal had five broken ribs.

Then there was the one about Pidge nearly burning down the science department— that one was very recent. Everyone started calling her the girl on fire.

So you’re in a room full of people while they read through each name,  each person stood up to line up then to walk up a set of stairs, shook some old people’s hand and got a blank diploma. Oh yea and you had to wait for all the names to be call before you were dismissed, and his graduating class had a hundred or more people.

Keith got comfy with a fully charged cell and a Nintendo.

_Lance_

_This is BORING_

_Lance_

_Omg, your by the fucking Ks!! Shoot me!_

_Lance_

_Dude, one chick is blowing a guy, lol._

_Lance_

_Think anyone would notice if I blow Shiro ;)_

_Shiro_

_I told Lance no_

_Lance_

_He said no_ _L_

The back and forth text pretty much drained a quarter of his cell life. They’re finally heading to the K’s so two staff in suits ushered Keith and two other rows up to the stage. The cell in his pocket buzzed madly but he couldn’t really check it with so many officials watching him and plus his hands were shaky. A real kill joy to this event would be smashing the screen  at graduation.

He was on the final step when it happened, _Keith Kogane_.

There was a line of university professors and official heads in black gowns and that should be his primary focus, not to trip on his feet and to give a pleasant smile as he shook hands with each member, but his senses picked up on his idiots who fucking s _creamed_. Lance smuggled in an air horn, the families around him sneered as they covered their ears. Shiro wasn’t reining Lance in cause he had in his hands a homemade poster with Keith’s god damn name on it. Allura’s whistle shattered the sound barrier

A traitorous burning blurred his vision. He would not cry on graduation.

“Go Keith, go Keith!”

It was so tacky

“That’s my boy, get it son!”

The diploma had as much weight as a feather but it felt like ball of lead in his hand.

“God damn right! Take that diploma! What’s up, bitches!”

Lance got in a few more blows from the horn before security clambered up the steps and lectured him.  Allura talked them out of it and they confiscated the horn and let Lance stay for the rest of the ceremony.

 Of course, Lance would almost get his ass kicked out at his graduation.

 

 

 

[x]

 

 

 

Keith perched on the curb, poking his chin up over the swimming sea of head bobbing up and down for his specific idiotic heads. “Did Shay leave?”

“At this point, Shay is barely human. She’s a zombie. This is ground zero, when zombies apocalypse start I’m blaming that bitch.  She got everything in at the last second, that crazy hoe.” The tassel of her cap smacked her right in the eye. “I swear to god, I feel like I left a Satanic cult in this.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do without your commentary in my life. Who’s going to talk shit about every living person for me so I don’t look like the evil one?”

She unlaced her arm and bumped him with the flat of her forearm across the stomach. “Shut up, we’ll still talk. Don’t get all emotional on me.”

“Yea, if you don’t blow yourself up. No one should give you any kind of access to things that could wipe out all of humanity.”

“That was one time and a total accident,” she hissed. “It was a very delicate compound— you know what, shut up. Haters gonna hate.”

A Latin voice cooed, mockingly, somewhere from his right. “Aw, Hogwarts let the Slytherin kids out early. You kiddies looking for Harry Potter?”

The trio squeezed through the mob and beamed stupidly at his black cap and gown, the blank diploma tucked under his pit, the tassel fluttering with the wind, the glow of sunlight in the dark blues of his slanted eyes.

 Meanwhile, Keith was trying to breathe through the wave of desire conjured up at the sight of his roommates in well fitted suits. Shiro’s steel grey blazer pronounced the broad and hard lines of his shoulders and chest. Enhanced the fragments of metal in his eyes.  His long hair was combed and tightly pinned in a ponytail. Lance disrupted all the inner wiring of his brain in his charcoal suit, all slender and dangerous wrapped in a tight package. The only color he had one was a blue tie.

“Lance,” Pidge stated, glancing to Keith for confirmation. “Right?”

He nodded, tongue thick as Lance unbuttoned his blazer and pocketed one hand in the front pocket of his slacks. He shook Pidge’s hand with the other, oozing charm through his pores.

“All the stories you heard? They’re true, I am that sexy. Please don’t speak, I understand it’s a lot to take in.”

Allura pinched his ass, Lance yelped and sought protection behind him. “ _Aye wey_!”

” _Tu_ _eres un pendejo,”_ she laughing, welding her clutch purse as a fearsome weapon. Her flawless ebony skin radiated in a chiffon shoulder dress, the dress soft folds were short at mid-thigh in the front and in the back it descended past her kneecaps. Mother of pearls rested on her soft collarbones. “I’m Allura, his much better looking and better all-around sister. Shiro is his gay cowboy.”

“I’m Pidge, mad scientist.”

Shiro waved shyly and accepted it his new position, “I’m the gay cowboy, I guess.”

“Gay cowboy?” Keith bothered to ask, leaning around Allura.

He said over the booming voices around them, “Allura has been watching gay porn and supposedly there’s a porn star that looks like me. She’s positive it was me in my younger years. I told her no but well, she’s related to Lance. So you know how well that works.”

“It’s you. Just admit it” Allura prodded. “I won’t be that upset. I have a lot of questions about that one scene with those two bears.”

“See? All that time I had to listen to this shit. The disrespect.”

“And now we can party,” Lance declared, worming his toned arms around Keith’s waist and swaying them both to a wordless tune.

“Good job on not getting kicked out, clown,” Keith snarked as he watched the pleats of his gown swooshed at his feet and felt the hot press of Lance’s firm chest and hardening cock at his back. Hard, right, cause it sure wasn’t soft and limp. There was a nasty curve in the seam of his pants that could be only one thing.

Damn man, no shame.

“I’m good with my mouth,” he laughed over his ear, breath too suggestive and moist. Goosebumps pebbled the sloop there and danced shivers the rest of the way to his arms.

Another set of eyes watched them lazily and grew dark with molten arousal— Shiro.  He had his head, cocked in an angle where it absorbed beams of light, faced to engage Allura and Pidge in their tiny circle of discussion but his sight strayed—ravenous and primal— to where Lance was making Keith’s day very problematic.

And holy fuck, there was no worse time for Lance to semi dry hump him and Shiro to just get off on it.

Like, the next generation of progress of medicine, law, industry, and art floated around and these tow fucks were thinking about dicks— maybe his, whatever— and then Pidge paused in time and saw Lance around him, and understanding dawned on her steel rimmed glasses.

Allura rubbed her forehead and sighed, leveling an annoyed glared at Lance. “Damn, Lance. Can’t you save the gay stuff for when you’re buzz?”

“I don’t understand, how is this gay? We’re just two bros, bro hugging.”

 

 

 

[x]

 

 

They bar hopped, three so far by his count, and Keith was thrilled that the tab was on Shiro and Lance cause he ordered a ton of fruity drinks and those mothers could rack up the price easy. The place they’re in was more of a club than a pub with the dark ambience, strobe lights, an illuminated dance floor, and the pulsating beats that body grind to.

 He could barely make out anyone’s face in the dark, saw the unruly hair of young gorgeous women on the dance as they worked men to their knees. Tracked the glow in the dark body paint and the glow sticks one dude on the street was selling off to drunk idiots. Lance had three, two bracelets and a necklace. Blue, of course, because Lance was a total douche and the color had to match with his tie. Two bracelets dangling off Allura’s elegant wrist as she tipped her Long Island back, pink and pretty on her skin. Shiro donned a necklace, purple. A red glow painted streaks on Keith’s wrist.

Guy was making a profit tonight.

Keith abandoned all sense of shame and used Shiro’s side as his personal pillow and laid on him, body electric and positive on sweet alcohol, and listened to Lance and Allura exchanged embarrassing childhood stories.

“No really, Lance would cry if my parents stopped recording him and paid attention to me,” Allura giggled, voice sloppy.

Lance’s finger loosely cradled the neck of his beer, “Bullshit.”

She burped into her hand and looked to Shiro and Keith, who were very much smiling into their drinks and enraptured in the tales of young Lance. “He had this scream that would make your ears bleed.”

“Shut up.” He choked on some beer, laughing.

“So Lance has always been an attention whore.”

“Well at least I didn’t play in the toilet.”

“You fucking used the seat cover as a cape!” She argued, slapping her palms on the table.

“Because I was a warrior. Warriors wear capes.”

Keith and Shiro both corrected, “You’re thinking of superheroes.”

“You two can find the edge of my long, thick penis and fuck off it, okay? Do that.”

“Chill, you’re like an inch longer than average,” Shiro said.

Lance’s cheek puffed out, “Shut up, fat dick.”

“That’s not an insult,” he gave a half smile. “You love that about my dick.”

“Well, it makes my butt hurt sometimes cause it’s too big and shit. Tell your dick to chill like damn.”

Shiro laughed harder. “Again, you love that. A lot. You seriously won’t stop talking about it during sex. I have to tell _you_ to calm down.”

“Keith’s cock is the perfect size and thickness. He doesn’t have fat dick problems.”

Keith straightened, “Slow down, why are you bringing up my dick?” He touched the center of his sternum. “We haven’t done anything.”

Allura muttered into her glass, “And that’s the problem.”

He narrowed his eyes, “What was that?”

She swallowed. “Nothing. Nothing.” Then coughed into a fist. “Dumbass.”

“I heard that last part, Allura. Don’t act like you didn’t say that.”

“What did I say?” She asked innocently.

“No more talking,” Lance gulped down his beer and brought it down harshly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he crawled out of the booth and peeled off his blazer.

 “We dance. Now. Up, up.” He clapped.

“Shit, let me take my heels off. You know I’m going to fucking wreck that floor.”

Shiro slid out and tugged a resistant Keith along.

He whined and barely mustered a fight.  “I can’t even dance.”

“Do the Carlton. No one cares,” he assured.

The brother sister duo were halfway through the human sea and under a swirling strobe light that baked their dark skin in hues of blue, green, red, orange, and pink. They had that natural inclination of rhythm and movement, hips rolling right, legs and feet quick and fluid like knife through a current. Shiro totally killed their hypnotic and alluring dance when he duck waddled in the center. Allura got behind him and folded her arms over her head and rocked her hips. Dirty beats drowned out their contagious laughter but their white teeth shone in the dark.

Keith lingered on the side, doing a safe side to side shuffle, until Shiro bounced on the balls of his feet over to him and coaxed him into wilder movements.

“Oh my god, stop,” he yelled when Shiro started to twerk against him.

 Shiro was an awful, awful dancer but made a surprisingly good twerker, go figure. At this point, the possibility someone laced their drinks with ecstasy or LSD grew alarmingly high. He was having too good of a time to really think much over the thought. Instead, he enjoyed the unappreciated beauty of dress slacks. With a bad fit, it offered a shapeless form. On a tailored one, it did as the word implied. _Tailored_ the body to the clothes like a second skin. So Shiro’s ass was on point in them.

The seam spilt with the spread of his butt cheeks and Keith wanted to clasp his hands in prayer, _thank you, Mr/Ms. Slack pants maker._

“Pop that booty,” Lance cheered, painted in blue, squatting down and pretending to brush invisible bills off his palm and make it rain.

Allura grind on Keith from his side and Lance popped on his blind spot.

This must be how a pole in a strip club felt like, preyed on and slippery.

Shiro swiveled his ass and grinned lecherously to Keith over his shoulder, skin red under the strobe. “Jesus Christ.”

Fuck it, he danced like tonight was the last they would have being young and reckless. Like the balls of colors beneath their feet with mini nebulas dusted with stars, meteors, and undiscovered planets. Allowed Lance and Shiro to sandwich him, felt sweat make their skin slick and glittery, let hands roam where they desired over his body as though no one would notice.

 

 

 

[x]

 

 

 

Keith didn’t get hung over but this headache was doing its damn best to be one and his mouth was sand planet dry that every swallow brought only dust. He wouldn’t bring up the rancid taste of sweet and sour cocktails on his breath. One cup and sniff told him he needed a whole bottle of Listerine.

Last night was on the fuzz but he distinctly remembered Lance causing drama at the ceremony, their terrible club moves, and him riding piggyback on Shiro with those big hands on his ass. Then the earthy whiff of cologne added on tops of the chocolate sundae scent that was Shiro’s masculine sweat. Remembered through the fuzz that he nosed Shiro’s neck and the guy didn’t complain but signed softly.

Then there was Lance in the fuzz— talking in a mocking Southern drawl as Keith inhaled the intoxicating scent of Shiro, tie loosened, sleeves rolled to the elbow and the a few buttons of his shirt popped on a tasteful view of honey brown skin. He didn’t put his blazer back on, body too hot from dancing, so it hung off one shoulder in a manner so distressingly casual. And there was no green eye jealous sitting on his face, rightfully it should be, that was his man and all.

Lance was ice. Mr. Chill with another guy one centimeter away from macking on his boyfriend thickly corded neck.

 So a good night, he had most of his memories and none of them were illegal or shameful. Which was more than he could say about the times he went out with Shay and Pidge who should not be allowed tequila, period. They’re a force of cutesy malicious and horrid intent, do not trust, do not collect 200— run while you could.

Speaking of Pidge, his lock screen was blown up with her texts. Weird how he didn’t feel his cell vibrate at the club, maybe because Shiro’s majestic ass was backing on his crotch like a stripper with her rent due.

He swept his thumb on the screen, tapped in his pin, and opened the message.

 

_Pidge_

_Ok. I totally get your problem_

_Pidge_

_Also they kept fucking checking you out, omg._

_Pidge_

_Seriously. You guys were gross so plz just date or w/e_

_Pidge_

_Are you not answering cuz you getting nutted or…?_

_Pidge_

_Fucking hungover as shit. Don’t fucking text or call. I will skin you._

 

Keith thought about calling her. Cause right now, he was biting down a damn smile while butterflies hopped up on acid reigned havoc in his empty stomach. It was too early for this. He didn’t have coffee yet or brush his teeth and this chick was saying all this bullshit that could not be a reality in his reality.

Maybe he could tag her in a bunch of Facebook photos or something so she had to waste her time by following the link on her phone, she’s very anal about having unchecked notifications on her cell. It drove her mad.

Then recalled how much having human skin was so great and amazing and dropped the plan.

Coffee, coffee washed away all his worries.

He popped his head into the collar of Lance’s cat shirt, it was mixed up in the laundry and Keith was too lazy to deliver it back, and walked into the hush of the flat.  The shirt had some extra length that finished at the curve of his ass.

He played with the machine, listened to it rumble back to live, grabbing expresso grounds and a mug from the cabinet. Yawned into his hand as he scooped up brown grounds and started a pot. His eyes fluttered close at the strong caffeine brewing and then opened his eyes to scan around the kitchen.

Not much was out of place, they’re out the entire night and passed out the minute they got back. There was a plastic bag of grapes someone left on the table, probably Lance as he tended to wake up in the night and have a snack.

Keith picked up the bag, about to walk away, when he saw it.

A printed listing of houses outside the city and an frosty cold matched only by the ice caps on the northern side of the earth submerged the heat in his body.

Looked at the address, the zip code, and knew the distance was great from here.

They’re looking.

Not even a fucking day and they’re…

His fists wanted something to do. Something to hit. A outlet to the pain in his heart, that everything _hurt_ spreading cracks into his body.

Instead, he inhaled and exhaled slow. Silenced the thoughts that swarm around his head like vengeful wasps. The thoughts that confirmed his fears. The thoughts that unearthed old, tender wounds and sliced them open.

Like Keith had been on his own for a while. Alright, a long time. But he got quick to learning how to let those old memories and dark emotions go. He was Mr. Aloof. Dude who didn’t put into that much empathy or feelings into anything really. Only the bare minimum cause the people before did the same.

Bare minimum and dipped.

People left, a lot. It killed back then. He cared less now, like g _o ahead, you think you’re the first._

It wasn’t like that right now.

Felt as though he was back there, alone, watching surrogate families filed in and out of the home. Too ashamed or indifferent to look at Keith in the eye. The kids in his classroom, happy and familiar with their friends. Stable in their life. Solid. While Keith knew he was on borrowed time until this arrangement went south and it was back with the other rejects like him.

His chest squeezed like someone had a punishing, painful grip on it. His vision went next, misty and blurry.

This was so stupid. So stupid to get all hurt.

Why? They’re just people. They’re just roommates, it was a given that they would part at some point and this was the point.

The drift.

It sucked.

“Keith?”

He shut his eyes, willing the burn to fuck off. “Hey,” he croaked.

“Dude…” Lance hedged. “Hey, you feeling sick or…?”

Lance easily maneuvered Keith so he had his front and not his back.

Bastard, he couldn’t have the kindness to look shitty the morning after a round of drinks. He should look like crap. Lance forgone pants and padded on soft feet with tiny, fitting briefs that were tight on his apple bottom ass and fat bulge, again.

Wow, brain. Not the time to be noticing those details but thanks, he needed to be frustrated sexually and emotionally aching. Real considerate.

Keith sniffed, wiping his nose. “Yea I think I’m little hung over.”

Lance checked his forehead with concern. “You don’t feel warm.”

“I’m fine.” Keith junked past Lance and busied his hands with the brewed pot. Saw his face mirrored in the black pool of coffee as he filled his cup.  His eyes were slightly swollen. “Probably need some sleep is all. Talk to you later, yea?”

“Sure,” he said softly, eyes glued to Keith’s shrinking back.

 

 

 

[x]

 

 

 

Keith made himself scarce at the flat. Became a ghost, walked as though his body had no greater mass than a feather around the place.  Rarer sighting than a legendary pokemon.

He started going out more frequently.

It hurt. Keith had a Shiro and Lance sized hole in his chest and each missed call or ignored text made it a little bigger. Got worse was whenever something reminded him of Lance’s tropical eyes or Shiro’s piggish snort. Hurt like hell when he realized he barely traded a few words with either of them. Shattered when he sat on their sofa, alone, and felt so tiny and cold.

He passed on the movie nights. Skipped out on morning breakfast. Responded to their texts an hour later. In truth, he was putting in more hours, job hunting, running in suits to interviews.

Pidge told him to talk it out but Keith liked pretending there wasn’t a problem, so he opted out on that. He saw it. A verbal confirmation was not required.

This worked for about a month, which was a skill in itself when you lived with two people you were actively avoiding, and the couple were planning a night in when he figured he’d have a night out.

Lance beat him to the door. “We need to talk.”

“Like right now?”

“Yea, right the fuck now. Who the fuck do you think you are—“

“Lance,” Shiro jumped in, running from the kitchen when Lance got loud. “We said we would be mature about this.”

“Oh, I’m being immature?” He gritted, anger simmering in his eyes. The tropical blues offered powerful swells, not the steady licks of water on a shoreline.

“Don’t twist my words,” Shiro scolded patiently, well taught in Lance’s mind and equally trained in reading him and handling the heights of his emotions.

“This asshole,” Lance helpfully pointed at Keith so Shiro had a good visual who was the asshole, “Has been ignoring us for weeks. Weeks. And don’t try that I’m busy horse shit on me cause I’m not having it. So you’re going to tell me to my face what we did wrong and we’re going to do what Shiro said and talk it out.”

Keith bit out, hollow. Apathetic. Mr. Aloof, remember? “Nothing is wrong—“

“Fuck you,” Lance snapped, a tremor making cracks in his hard face, squinters in his harsh tone— and realized the anger was breed from hurt and not a wicked place in his heart.  “Fuck you for thinking you can act like this. That you can do this to us. What the fuck? You got your new mature work buddies to be with now. They better cause they got some fucking piece of paper.”

Shiro stepped up and clamped a hand on Lance, the lighthouse amidst the torrential waves of his boyfriend’s emotions.  “Calm down.”

He brushed him off, walking to pace out his frustration.

“We’re not stupid, Keith. Just talk to us. If we did or said something— Is this something you don’t want anymore? Do you want us to move out?”

Him?

Keith felt weeks of unchecked anger roll up in his chest, hot and suffocating. “Me? Really now? I’m the one— that’s fucked up when you guys are the ones already looking for the next best thing.”

“What are you talking about?”

His throat burned and his eyes were next on that list. The snake around his heart clenched with barb wire scales

Wanted to really scream but Shiro wasn’t on that level and he wouldn’t bring it either, so he put a recall on those explosive emotions and started off calmly, “I’m talking about the damn house listings. I knew from the beginning you guys would piss off and start your happy little family. But I thought… Dunno… Shit at least have the balls to tell me to my face. Not go behind my back and shit.”

Dual voices asked, “What?”

From his little time out area, Lance looked up from his nail chewing and stared at him, genuinely god smacked. Shiro’s face was a mirror reflection. They traded wordless expression and then focused on Keith.

“You think we were moving out?” Lance shouted, voice pitched with indignation.

The room went hush. Blue hopped from her perch on the sofa , walked  to where Shiro and Keith loitered in front of the door, made circles between their legs and then repeated the process to Lance. They all watched her grey tail swished low to the ground as she sauntered slowly to Lance’s door, used her paw to push open the door and walked into the dark privacy of the room.

Keith asked, voice leveled and heart not in the blender, “Is…is that not what’s happening?”

“NO!”

Shiro crossed his arms and thumbed the divot in his chin. “So you were ignoring us because you thought we were going to cut and run?”

“Uh. Yea.” He said. The gasoline he had going to fuel him quickly ebbed.

Lance clambered up the sofa and pointed, “We thought you wanted us to move out.”

“So no one is leaving?” He confirmed for a second time, heart budding with pearls of hope.

“What the fuck, _no_.”

“Then why the hell did you guys have papers for houses on the market?”

“Cause we wanted to move outside of the city. Together,” Shiro answered, tension slipping out and the hard edges being sanded back to soft curves.

“Oh.”

“Dumbass,” Lance breathed, word said as a prayer of relief.

 He vaulted over the sofa and advanced into Keith’s space. “By the way, I’m going to tell you this since you haven’t got a damn clue in that pretty head of yours. I fucking like you. Shiro likes you. We want to date you, how many times do I have to flash you my dick for you to get that already? We want a damn house with you.”

What kind of Harlequin romance bullshit was going on?

Clearly, he was still asleep. No way were they having a fight over a ridiculous miscommunication like your average rom-com movie. There was no way that Lance said the words Keith ached for hears for months.

“What?” He blanked.

“We like you,” Shiro said, walking closer and chancing a touch.

His bones became malleable and easy to manipulate when hands ran over his bicep to his forearm. Ain’t got no bones in my body.

Keith pressed a hand to his stomach and breathed out his mouth in measured breathes. He wasn’t well trained in expressing his emotions and less experienced in dealing with the aftermath of them.

He craned his neck down and centered his thoughts to the wood panels beneath his shoes but said, “I think I’m going to throw up. Not that I’m against the idea. I’m fucking— yea if you guys, you know. I just thought…”

“Ask the guy out and he says he wants to puke,” Lance teased, rubbing Keith’s back. The touch willed him to crumple and melt.

Shiro chuckled and administered his tender presses to Keith’s side. Big hands warm with kind intentions. “I told you to be more subtle.” His voice passed over like the wind through naked fall branches, the kind that caressed your face.

“This is me being subtle.”

Subtle and Lance, what a joke.

While they joked, Keith coaxed his brain to reality. If there was any time for his mind to snap back to the real world it would be at this junction. Yet he was still there, looking at the floor, and Shiro and Lance ran the back of their palms down his spine, voices light with levity.

The hands turned precious— hands made to handle the delicate cradle of a rose’s petals— brimmed with a economy of meaning, a wealth of incommunicable emotions that people would never have the words for because emotions weren’t summed down to words but sensations the nerves in your body could read, a universe expansive of quiet desires.

And it directed at him. For Keith.

Said tiny promises over his skin. Rapid snapped shot of emotions.

_We wanted this—_

_We wanted you—_

_We would break too if you left us—_

Don’t throw up, Keith commanded.

Like how bad would that be to hears years from now when they piled fat and lazy in their new home in front of the fire place, Keith wanted a fireplace if the house was happening, and recalled the day they formally asked him out.

Remember, Shiro? Keith puked like a dick.

The nausea passed after a few minutes. Disbeliefs went with it too at the heels and so did the hurt and the anger— all the bad shit in Keith flushed out. Emotional detox.

Then his mind started turning. Reexamined the vault of memories with Lance and Shiro.

“So,” he licked his dry lips. “So you guys gave me blue balls for months because you were trying to seduce me?”

“Fucking you had blue balls, we had blue balls too,” Lance gestured a finger rapidly between him and Shiro, like hello we suffered too.

“That doesn’t fucking count if you have a boyfriend.” Keith argued

“It does too when your roommate is hot as hell and super cute.”

Shiro admitted repentantly, “No lie, we kind of said your name a lot during sex. We were very respectful when we fucked you in our fantasy though.”

The smirk on Lance’s face curled wicked. “Not me. I was very nasty. Sorry but not sorry, I made you a total freak in my head.”

“It’s true. Lance was very detailed about his sexual fantasies.”

“We kinda got off on it too. Now that, I feel a little bad about but I came super hard. So again, I’m a little sorry.”

Um, yea. That wasn’t helping the case of mad flush Keith had on his face.

“You two really suck.”

Lance cracked his knuckles, “Yea but we’re pretty sure you suck really good cock. So you are the one who sucks.”

“Wow. I can’t believe you’re so awful.”

“Still feel like throwing up?”

“No.”

“Good. Cause I’m getting my mouth on you and I really hope you say yes.”

Keith’s breath went to the shitter, full system stop, red lights blaring, needed to manually crank open his lungs and inhale by force. Didn’t notice he gave Lance the green light to go, go, go until his back was at the wall and Lance at his front, pressing his chest and hips close. Like, feel me man. Feel what we can do now that we belong to one another.

His eyes were still those cool, erotic waters but his body was another state. A state of heat and hardness. Let his mind absorbed the solid press of his chest. The cock swelling in his pants as it grind on whatever surface it could find— hint: his thigh.

Shiro watched, eyes hypnotized, his teeth bit his lip several times as though he was doing the same to Keith. As if when Lance touched him, he received it too.

“You fucking made me wait a long time, man. Not cool at all,” Lance murmured.

“Could say the same, you dick.”

And the kiss was complete shit. No coordination, no finesse, no sense of decorum— a hectic jam of mouth to mouth like a clumsy newbie performing CPR. Inelegant. Horrid. On his tongue was a cocktails of old coffee, Dr. Pepper because Lance cheated on his clean eating plan again, a few cigs squeezed in  and Lance’s own natural flavor. By all account, a first kiss shouldn’t be this crappy.

But it was.

On the flip side, Keith was dismantling bone by bone, cell by cell, skin by skin because Lance was kissing him with so much passion and unmuted violence. He followed through, sloppy too with his own mouth. Breath as bad as Lance’s but who gave a shit when a gorgeous Spanish guy with blue eyes licked the meaning of sex into your mouth.

Answer, you didn’t.

Solution, you moaned and buckled cause no one ever kissed you like your mouth was a wet hole to fuck. You could come from it. From the wet, slippery guide of their tongue over yours. Didn’t know you could work a mouth like this.

Lance tipped his head and shoved his tongue cruelly down his throat. He moaned, hands seeking purchase in his hair and grabbing it hard, and now Lance whimpered like a soft thing.

“Like it rough?”

Lance cocked his head low, hungry for his mouth, but maintained the rift. “You should fuck me and find out.”

“I should punish you,” He growled, his eyes searched over Lance and locked with Shiro, and continued louder. “Both of you.”

Shiro sat on the back of the sofa, thighs parted wide to accommodate the thick bugle between it. Yea, fat dick problems. Those were his problems too.  “Is that so?”

“Yea. You think it was fair to walk around naked and shit.”

“Technically that was Lance.”

“Hear that, man?” He smirked over Lance’s ear. Opened his mouth wetly and sloppy and breathed out a dark note. “He’s saying it’s your fault. By that logic, it should be you to get it.”

“Fuck. Keith—“

“Nah.” He ran his tongue over the front of his teeth. Made certain Lance heard the wet sound. Then made sure he felt it by tracing the shell of his ear. “You ain’t getting that, sweetheart. You don’t get a damn thing until I say so.”

Lance whined, worked his hips frantically on his thigh to steal pleasure while he could. “Keith. Please.”

“Beg. I like that a lot. And Shiro, don’t think about jerking off. You’re just as bad as this guy.”

“It’s tight down there,” he grunted. He rolled out halfheartedly, red and weak in the face like the confinement was unbearable.

“That’s too bad, big guy.”

Shiro lowered his head back and groaned, fingers digging into the cushions.

Lance laughed, “Fucking knew you’re a freak in the sheets.”

“Got some attitude there?”

“Yea. I have a lot of it. Better be real hard on me or I might not listen to you.”

What a little shit.

Keith flipped them, issuing a strength he rarely called upon but it was worth it for the surprised gasp from Lance. For the way he surrendered to him, opened his legs and brought his arms over his head, a move ripped out of a centerfold in a Playboy magazine.

“That’s fucking hot,” he said.

Jeans hung low on the points of his hips and a sliver of flesh showed as the hem rode up. Saw unmapped honey skin, brown pubic hair, and that lethal V dipping into the hardness between his legs. Almost like an flashing arrow, here was where you wanted to here. Right down there, look I’ll show you the way.

“Take your pants off. Underwear too, you won’t need them.”

Lance panted, “Want a show too? Can get you hot if you want.”

“You just want an excuse to act like a little slut. Do you do that with Shiro? Is that how you turn him on?”

“Yes. Fuck. Yes. He gets fucking hard as shit.”

“ _Lance_ ,” Shiro rasped, he closed and opened his hands over his thighs.

“Go on. Give me a good show.” Put up some space while saying this with his voice pitched hoarse for smoke and heat, and grew excited when Lance visibly shivered. Thought, _yeah, now you’re going to see what you’ve been missing._ Could feel Shiro’s undivided attention shift over to his boyfriend.

Lance grinned, the smile crookedly and cocky as hell, and ran the tip of his tongue across his front teeth. That was all the warning he got cause it became a _show_ — a show geared for your debased desires, a show with full nudity and lewd grinding.

He started with the goods, hands on his hip bones, fingers traced the band of his jean to the button of his fly and brought his thumb over the bulge of his cock. Every fiber of his being screamed for him just to quit with the foreplay, get Lance naked, and then get _in_ Lance. But he was due an immeasurable amount of payback for those mornings in skimpy boxer briefs and that one time Shiro and Lance got naked while he was in the room.

Yea, no, by the way Lance was going at it he loved the play, the command, the easy submission of his body.

Plus, it was magic to watch Lance. To watch him explore his body like a porn star, knew how to trail his fingers up his toned stomach up to the nipple and tease the peaks poking through his thin shirt. To watch him expose himself in an erotic dance. Knew when to lift up his shirt a little so Keith saw more skin each time, got harder each time, ached each time. Knew how to roll his thumbs over the band and tug it down so the base of his cock showed, so the thick hair down there curled around it already slicking with sweat.

Did all this several times until Keith had to grab himself to calm down. A quick squeeze but it felt fucking amazing.

Lance popped the button, grabbed the flaps and unzipped nice and low. Hooked his thumbs through the belt loops and parted the fly further and there was the solid ridge of his dick pressed against black briefs.

Keith thought about crying, a little. Mostly he was so grateful Lance dumped his Spongebob underwear today cause that might be a bit weird for him.

Lance kicked off the jeans, locked eyes with Keith, and was back at fingering the line of elastic with a look. A look that said, _you wanna see my cock, baby? See it hard and thick for you._

“You wanted this off too?” The band snapped against the point of his hips, the skin there flushed a soft pink at the smack.

Keith blinked, mind on the nice bulge testing the limits of the fabric and the limits of his control. “Off.”

“You sure?”

“He likes to tease,” Shiro said, the sound of his voice swollen with gravel and incendiary need.

And Keith was kind of blown by the rough texture.

Shiro had a deep voice— he was a big guys and larger men tended to own low voices— but this was _dark side of the moon_ dark. Turned his head to the direction of it and Shiro looked like something conjured up in dark, dangerous place. Hard edges, black hair, muscles strained.

Went back to looking at Lance when he heard fabric and a snap and the front of his brief were pulled under his balls with his cock curved, wet, and twitching in the air. Teeth found his lower lips as he watched Lance’s dick bob, the head leaked, and the jerky rocks his hips persuaded almost subconsciously.

“I said off.”

“Bossy man, I like that,” Lance pivoted and yanked it the rest of the way.

Good, good.

Awesome to be correct but Keith was more preoccupied with the ridiculous curve of Lance’s ass and how many seconds it would take to bend him, spread his ass cheeks, and eat him from one end to the other. Normally math was no big deal to compute but he couldn’t solve the equation for this word problem. So why brother with time and numbers when he could just do the math in real time.

Set a hand on Lance’s nape and guided him into the bend. Lance smacked his hands on the wall for stability, gasping the whole way, the cock between his legs moving with him and twitching in excitement.

Keith’s knee found the ground real quick and let his breath travel over the back of his thighs.

Lance hung his head and watched him from between his legs, “Keith.”

“You look real nice like this, Lance. Look good showing me your pretty ass.”

He might be bias but the view down here was spectacular— wait, scratch the bias comment, not a man or woman alive could deny how good Lance look. His ass simply _popped_ , smooth and juicy from every angle. Then his thighs had a crazy balance of soft fat and hard muscles, Lance sucked at clean eating but Keith literally had no issues with the results.  Muscle rolled under the skin like mountains in a valley.

He saw this one particular thigh mountain and licked it from the edge all the way to the end where it happened to led inside Lance’s inner thigh. His balls hung there and since Keith was in the neighborhood, he took one into his mouth and sucked hard.

Twin moans reached his ears, pinned down who was who by the level of wreckage in their vocals— Lance was a centimeter from the ledge of no return and Shiro sounded like a caged lion.

Well, what went around came around, right?

Couldn’t feel too bad about it, every little moan, every sharp hitch of breath sparked a bolt of lightning through his cock. Probably wouldn’t last for shit once he got inside Lance or once Shiro got in him so it was better to get them all to that high peak of arousal.

He popped off, pressed his mouth soft and dainty to the wet skin and repeated the treatment to the next one. Sucked. Pulled. Nibbled gently so Lance couldn’t forget that Keith literally had him by the balls. Lance seemed to like it.

In fact, he watched Keith the whole time and worked his hips in a vain hope that he would suck his cock next if he acted sweet for it.

“Fuck, fuck—Keith.”

“Hmm?” He hummed around the ball, rolled his tongue under the sack and then wrapped it up like a octopus and sealed his lips tight.

There was something about sucking on a actual nut that appealed to him, like the underdog of the male organs, everyone was about cocks and ass and left out balls. Not Keith. Apparently, Lance too, his mouth parted on a continuous moan.

“Suck me, please,” he said. “Fuck, I want your mouth so fucking bad.”

He popped his ball out of his mouth. “Then keep wanting,”

“Dude, you fucking suck,” Lance pouted upside down.

Crazy, Keith imagined a thousand ways he’d fuck Lance or vice versa or Shiro in him, but he didn’t expect having a conversation between his legs while he licked his balls. Somehow, this was better than the fantasies.

“Shit, you wish,” he kissed his balls and thrilled in the fucked out expression in Lance’s lake water blue eyes and told himself to reverse the position some point in the future. Cause Lance had the perfect eyes for dick sucking and Keith wanted to watch those eyes look at him at least once, going down on his cock.

Later though, there were plans in active motion with his mouth and the destination was that tight little hole.

Lance read the terrain and started mewling sweet, “Keith, Keith, yes, yes.”

Keith spread him wide. “What’s that?”

“C’mon.”

“What?” He feigned confusion. “Do you want something— _here_?” He circled a dry finger down the cleft, bumped over the rim like a afterthought, split the rest of the way and went in reserve.

“There,” Lance said when his finger ran over the rim. “Let me have it, yea? Don’t be bogus.”

“Oh, Mr. Wear-Tiny-Ass-Shorts is telling me not to be bogus. Ain’t that some shit.”

Arms, thick and unmovable, coiled around his waist and slammed his back into an equally solid body. Shiro got handsy. Rubbed his cock against Keith’s ass as he groped his chest over the fabric, then got annoyed with the barrier, and dove under and thumbed his nipples.

“Fuck,” he groaned, leaning back into Shiro’s chest. “You’re supposed to be sitting back there.”

“I wanted a better view,” he husked. “I could help too. Tell you how to eat his little ass so he screams.”

Lance choked, “Why is everyone picking on me?”

“Cause you’re pretty, baby,” Shiro said.

“Don’t make things gay, Sh— Hah.”

Shiro spanked his ass.

He pointed to the rendered speechless Lance as a visual demonstration. “See. He gets naughty so you spank him. Don’t do it too much, he gets really excited.”

Keith tried it, whacked his hand across Lance’s other cheek and palmed rough and felt the quiver go through him. “Damn.”

“You dicks,” Lance panted. “Actual—oh my god! Fuck, shit, c’mon, c’mon. Fucking fuck me or something.”

“This is awesome.” He went for spank number three and drank in the mini shudders zipping and zapping all over Lance, the way the zap made his cock twitch, and the zip that had his hole quivering for stimulation.

 He had never seen someone look so…fuckable. Someone you just had to have. Had to taste. Had to lick. Had to touch. Had to suck. Had to fuck.

Shiro interrupted his sightseeing and angled chin lips for a kiss, and he tasted traces of Lance—sweet, old cigs, and spice— and the rest was Shiro. Clean water, raw walnuts, fucking cotton candy light. Fell into it, allowed Shiro to dominate him the same as he did to Lance, and boy it was a ride to be cradle and demolish. He would kiss kindly into your mouth but slip a hand between your legs and touch you hot. That what he did, made sweet and kind love to Keith’s mouth and pulled his dick out of his pants and pumped him dirty. The other hand fisted his head in position to Shiro’s desires.

When Shiro drew back, he rasped wetly over his swollen lips. “Don’t forget once you’re inside him, I’m opening you up and fucking you.”

Again, Lance watched them. Over the shoulder this time and his hips moved, unintentionally, when Shiro’s pink tongue slipped shamelessly between his lips. Made it so that Lance saw it, again and again, his tongue and then Keith’s going into each other’s mouth.

“Guys, guys, guys,” he mumbled.

Keith bucked wild in Shiro’s fist, the foreskin on the crown rolling over the head and then back over it. Wetter. Louder. Super slick. Shiro’s voice a fucking savage, animalistic creature. And Lance just fucking watched.

His grip slipped and he went with, turning over to crawl right over and rub himself against Shiro’s moving hand.

Shiro huffed a laughed and grabbed them both, and Keith saw stars.

Did something awesome and pulled the foreskin of his cock over the head Lance’s cut one. Lance humped, the only person with the room and leverage to freely work his hips

He tipped his head back. Moaned, loud and lewd.

Shiro broke away and nosed Keith under his ear, and rumbled. “Look at my pretty boys.”

Oh.

My.

God.

Keith blushed, the word pretty drilling heat into his bones. “F-fuck.”

“Do you want to know how many times Lance sucked me off and I thought of you? How many times Lance called out your name when I ate his ass?”

“Shit.” His head lolled to the side and Shiro mouthed the slope of exposed skin. His damn vocals were working these _moans_ out of him. “Fuck…are we really gonna do this on the floor?”

“You started it,” Shiro hummed.

“Hell yea,” Lance piped up. “Knock it off our bucket list. Let’s do it.”

He scooted on his knee, chest flat to Keith’s, and kissed Shiro and fisted a hand around both their cocks. “Tagging in,” he giggled.

“Thanks, my wrist was getting tired.”

They seemed to be having fun, which good for them, but Keith here was being reanimated— guessed Shiro sent him off to the afterlife with his big hands and sweet lips— and he had enough brain cells to receive pleasure and respond to the heat. But basically that was all, he could barely manage words. Just felt and felt. His body burned like a inferno and his cock was hard as fuck.

“You fuckers…”

Lance flicked back the bangs falling into his eyes and laughed. “Always talking shit. Be sweet for me and moan like a good boy.”

“Lance.”

He looked down between their bodies and rolled his fist over their heads and jerked it back down. “Fucking love your dick by the way, you’re a nice size. Can’t wait to have it in me. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“Dude.”

“And I get to suck it now, too. I’m going to take you all the way in, baby. Shiro destroyed my gag reflex so you can practically fuck my mouth.”

Shiro chimed in, “Guilty. And very true, Lance swallows too.”

“Shiro, don’t ruin the surprise.”

“He loves to choke on cock too.” He helpfully added like Keith wasn’t burning from the inside.

Keith cried, “Sh—shut up, my dick’s going to explode.”

“Damn that sucks for you, boo.  You still have a nice little hole to fuck though.”

 

 

[x]

 

 

So sex on the floor was the complete worst on your knees. Add five points to pain if the ground was hardwood. Deduct points if you had a rug. Rug burns weren’t worth shit. And then take your tally of the total and multiply it by a million sexy points because nothing felt more raw, more urgent, more desperate than pressing a person on the ground and barely taking off your clothes. Just getting your cock out and their hole exposed, cause you weren’t fooling anyone that was all the skin required to make you blow.

And since Keith had two people, well that equaled to a lot of damn points.

Basically his knees hurt. Like hell, thanks to Shiro who hefted him up, ripped off his jeans, and brought his naked thighs and ass to the cold floor. Lance had only a shirt like him. And Shiro managed to unzip and pull his cock out.

Oh yeah, and it was _fat_.

Lance’s earlier quips had full merit, that thing was huge.

Keith straightened his back, ignored the chink in neck, and used slippery finger to pry Lance’s hole. He admired it and spat on it, jamming two fingers after it.

Lance’s thigh trembled so terribly that the rest of him started to mirror it as well. It made his swollen cock and tight balls sway under him.

“Yes. C’mon,” he backed into him. Pleasure the sole force keeping him alive. “So good, Keith. Fuck. Don’t stop, baby.”

Keith stared down where his finger pounded into Lance. Saw how red the skin got. Saw all his spit and the cherry flavor lube glossed around the rim and down the cleft of his ass straight to his balls. Saw the hickeys and bruises being wore like his signature brand on Lance’s tone thighs, Shiro added a few to the collection and created dark universes right under the curve of his ass. They took turns doing it— lots of fun when you had all the power and all the Lance to play with.

He had moaned and whimpered, made these sounds that would give Keith hard ons for life, and asked for more. Asked them to do it harder. To lick. To suck. And palmed his cock as he watched.

That image permanently rebooted the framework of his sense of vision since it hadn’t dispel itself minutes later.

Still got tiny shivers when he replayed it again and again.

Keith’s other hand went on a world tour down his lovely Spanish boy’s back, the back he’d stared at during morning breakfast forbidden and unsanctioned then but now so free and given to him, and nudged the shirt until it bunched up by his nape. Skin molded to his palm. Golden honey brown, warm from foreplay and hot as hell for sex. The vertebrates in his spine bowed to the touch and the valley down his back darkened with shadows.

 And it startled Keith, Lance and Shiro provided little physical boundaries— they’re tactical people— but this was the first touch between them all that harbored all their intentions truly.

There would be time later to analyze shit. To feel blessed and happy. To feel the love coming out his pores.

The time now was for the guy on his knees and the bigger guy at his back ravishing his neck and coaching him the ways to fuck with Lance.

Apparently, he was doing a good job. “Such a good boy. Look how well you’re fucking him. He wants your cock bad.”

That gravelly voice passed over him like a shadow. “Still kinda tight.” Tight and hot. Really wet too, his skin was thick with it.

“Yea. His asshole is small. You should fit. He likes the burn.” He wiggled a finger besides Keith’s impolitely.

Lance had zero complaints—actually moaned, drawn out and hot, and rocked his ass on to their fingers. With the wide spread of his legs, he didn’t get them far.

It was kind of fun as they both crooked their fingers and slid out as Lance rutted down, ass trying to meet their third knuckle.

“See how much he can take in,” Shiro purred.

Keith breathed, seeing it when they dove back in. “Yea.”

Lance had no diginity and threw back his head and Keith’s mind went mental with the phrase _wanna fuck him, wanna give him my cock, lemme fuck him, please, please, just wanna be inside—_

“How do I have…ah tw-two boyfriends and no cocks in me?”

“Mouthy, mouthy,” he raced the slope of his back and smacked his ass.  “How does Shiro deal with you?”

It didn’t precisely shut Lance up but it did get him to stop using words in a coherent sentence, so progress.

Laughter rocked through Shiro in mini shockwaves, “Patience. Mostly his cute ass though.”

“Okay. That makes sense.”

“Put your mouth back on him. He’s almost ready.” Shiro braced a hand and eased Keith down into an erotic bend.

Keith didn’t use his hands, just used his mouth to find Lance’s clenching hole and moaned. It was hot, wet, and impossible to breath and Lance bucked too erratically that his tongue slurped out. He nipped his cheek to settle him down.

“You’re doing so good, Keith.” Shiro humped against his ass, hips slow and breath raspy.  The fat head of his cock bumped up the cleft of his ass, running over his hole.

And then it was his turn to be the one with eager butt rubs.

He wormed his tongue inside, traced the molten hot wetness there, groaned at the tight clenches around his tongue and jammed in faster, harder, technique abandoned in place of passion.

Shiro petted his hair, husking praises. Lance reached back and threaded his fingers through his locks and pressed him down.

He said. “He’s good to go.”

Hands leveled him upright but he was still chasing that wet hole on the retreat. He sucked in air desperately as if he was submerged in water for years.

“Your turn.”

Spit ringed his mouth and he opened his legs, watching Shiro’s big hand slithered down glossy over his stomach, past his navel and the black dense happy trail, and under his balls. He kissed him and distracted Keith from the finger slicking up his ass, the burn and stretched _killed_. His knees parted wider, guided on instinct and desire.

Visible trembles ran through Lance’s limbs as he rolled to his back, kicked his arms back, and enjoyed the view.

 “Damn, baby,”  he husked, vocals fucking _wasted_ and beyond repair.

Keith snipped, “Perv.”

“Yea, you’re right. I am,” he snarled, face feral when he began to bounce on Shiro’s fingers.

Those erotic blues pinned him, racked him up mad and hot knowing Lance was getting off on seeing him being taken and used up like a doll. “He fucking you good, Keith? You like me watching, right, fuck you’re just taking it. God damn slut.”

He rode hard, moaned into Shiro’s mouth. His beautiful Spanish boy watched, eyes fixed on his cock where it was slamming his stomach with lewd slaps, rolled his hips mindlessly when Shiro rammed in like a subconscious reflex.  Like his body knew the 411 that his ass was meant for bottoming, meant to take a cock the same way he was about to.

Lance unwound one arm and got a lazy hand on his cock, jerked off slow like an impatient porn star between takes, and talked real nasty and dirty. Told Keith how Shiro was going to fuck him hard and he was going to watch it too. Watch him take it. See how long he could last.

“Shiro’s real good,” he praised, every piece of it set off explosions of shudder over the big guy.

No judgement there, Keith’s body did it too. Excited. Loving that sweet, dirty talk coming in guttural with a Spanish flair. Man this guy knew how to hit all the notes.

“Bet you don’t last a minute, pretty boy,” Lance skimmed his canine with his tongue.

“I’m going…Fuck…I’m going to fuck the shit outta you. Just wait.”

“You two,” Shiro chided, twisting up four fingers.

Keith slammed on the wide burn, “Fast, faster. Wanna fuck that god damn smile off his face.”

“I’ll call you the Flash. Faster than the speed of nutted.” Lance smeared pre-cum over the crown and down his cock. Did it again, squeezing pre-cum from the slit.

And that mouth seriously needed a whole system reboot. That mouth should be moaning his name, asking Keith to give it hard and fast yet it sprouted shit that made his dick hard and his teeth grind. Fingers drilled him to high heaven and his dick ached to in something moist and wet.

Yea, foreplay rocked but damn he needed to get his dick inside someone right the fuck now. Now, now.

“Fuck it, “ he decided, moving with Shiro’s finger still fucking him and leaned for the condoms and lube. Teethed the corner of the wrapper and torn it, eyes sighted with Lance, and spat the scrape. Then he slicked his cock, pulled the condom over it, and fisted more lube along the shaft.

“Oh shit, Keith’s snapped.”

Shiro stuttered, popping all four fingers out of Keith, “Wait for me.”

Lance got a hand under each knee and brushed kneecaps to his pectorals. “Fuck yea. Let’s go, Flash.”

He braced himself over Lance, hissing through his teeth as he coated his dick. “You know when you come first, I’m not going to stop. Gonna keep fucking that ass until I damn am ready.”

“Bad boy, just gonna use me like that?” Lance lifted his hips, trying to slip Keith in.

It failed cause Lance had no aim and Keith would fuck him when he felt like it. Plus, those whimpers Lance handed him when he rubbed his dick over his hole was giving him one hell of a power rush.

“Yea and you’re going to like it too.”

Arms growing lethargic, Lance made to lower his knees but Keith growled out, gruffly. “Keep your damn legs open, Lance. I want to see where my cock is going.”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Lance whined, head thumping the floor, and obeyed the order.

He heard Shiro laugh from behind as he struggled to tear the foil open with lube slicked fingers

“Serves you right for being a tease.”

Spanish boy cried, spine working in all kinds of bendy twist to get a nice feel of his cock, good thing for him Keith’s main weakness was pretty bodies doing all kinds of bendy twists so he rolled in close.

Lance begged, “Fuck me. Give me your cock. Being waiting so long, baby.”

And damn desperate and cockslut looked _fine_ on Lance. Looked better with his knees up high, cocking leaking on his toned stomach, and ass presented like a gift.

“Say please?”

He talked real sweet and low, mouth parted wide enough to see the bottom of his teeth. “ _Please_. C’mon, I’ve been good.”

“I think you should fuck him, Keith. Poor baby just want to be filled.”

“Think Shiro’s right?”

“Yea, yea, yea.”

Shiro snapped the cap on the lube shut, tossed it, and worked it over his cock. “I am lubed and wrapped.”

“The award for least sexiest line right before a threeway goes to,” Lance joked, performing a drum roll with his fingers on the back of his thighs. A warm smile wormed its way over the desperation.

“Fuck him. Right now. Seriously, he’s such a little punk.”

Worked for him; he lined his cock and rolled in, that smile on Lance’s face completely vacated the area bags and all, and gasped breathy, horny _ahs ahs_. Though he wasn’t doing much better either, air shotgunned  out of him , the joints of his bones possessed zero stability and fucking shuddered, and his brain sent signal of _hot, hot, wet, wet, tight, so fucking tight_.

He wanted to pound, pound, pound until he was so deep in Lance he could never leave, until the sound of his balls slapping Lance’s ass was his sole music. Wanted, wanted, wanted that and more. Wanted Shiro to watch him do it too. Wanted Lance to see Shiro watching. And you bet his greedy ass wanted the reverse for Lance to take it up the ass while Shiro fucked him. To have the full memory and knowledge of how good Shiro gave it cause he had personal and a year’s worth of hands on experience.

A solid, heat pressed against his ass now, and fuck yea, Shiro and his fat dick problems.

Keith looked over his shoulder, biting his lip as Shiro held the base of his cock with one hand and used to the other to lock down Keith’s hips.

“Fuck, you’re fucking thick, man,” he said.

“Hope you like it,” Shiro grinned smugly, dropping his eyes to see Keith’s hole open around his shaft.

“Told you,” Lance pipped from the floor.  “He’s real nice and fat, it’s fucking hot.”

Fucking A.

He could hardly suck in air to make any damn noise because of that fat cock, so yea, it was real, _real_ good. Even better to have his dick suction in wet, heat and his ass stretched out. Threeways were simply the best and with his favorite boys, even better.

“How’s he doing, sweetness?”

Shiro groaned. “Fucking good. He knows how to take my dick. Just like you, baby.”

Heat twisted a wicked thing in his balls.

“Do you like it? Like that fat cock in you.”

Keith crawled, not very far with Lance close and Shiro even closer, and kissed Lance. Pulled back so he could moan over his lips, thick and smoky. “I like it, I like it.”

He moaned back, getting hot from the words, hot from the view on his back and Keith deep on Shiro’s cock. “Fuck. Shiro fuck him, please. Wanna you see do it.”

“I know, sweetheart. Wanna  watch him fuck you too, can you do that for me? Take his cock for me, baby, alright?”

“Yea, baby. I’ll do it. Watch us, please.”

Lance needed to shut up with that filth or this would be over very soon. He bit Lance’s lip to get that message through and naturally Lance moaned louder, said dirty instructions, told him how good he was giving it to him, how good Keith was taking Shiro, asked if he liked it, asked how it felt, pleaded for Keith to do it harder. Basically this asshole babbled every obscene thought either of them could have and drove them mad.

Air pistoned out of him in these mutated raspy-snarls, it ran out faster than he could collect it so he was in the red when it came to his oxygen levels. Oh well, he could still move and feel and that was important. Apparently air ain’t that essential when your hips had an agenda and a warm body— oops, bodies. He rammed violent, force amplified by the energy Shiro supplied and the crawling need to ram his cock deep and hard in that sweet hole.

And Lance, man, he clenched down _dirty_. Keith had a few guys but this was the first to have a ass work him in a vice. So no deficient of anything was going to slow him down.

Fucked in and out. Felt Lance quiver sweet around his dick like it was the first time anyone played with his ass, licked him good, and wrecked him better. A flat out lie when the proof was snapping into _him_ thick and fast. Shiro was a good mix of contradictions, hard and sweet, big in body but in his mind as well; but under all that was a guy who fucked angry and cruel. Some kind of feral beast that moonlighted when the elements aligned right.

A lot of things were aligned this night.

The pain of holding his leg got to Lance, so they fell until Keith thought they would look much better hooked over his shoulders. “Keith.”

“You fucking lazy boy. Can’t even keep your legs open for me,” Keith snarled, bending Lance with fingers that had bad intentions to bruise, the guy was half on the ground and half floating on air like a magician.

“So bad. Keith knows how to keep his legs open for me.”

“I ca—I can’t. Too good.”

Shiro mocked, teeth flashing, “Poor thing.”

“I shouldn’t even cum in you.” Keith drove his hips forward, hard and rough, he really had no control now.

Lance’s head thrashed side to side, neck purple and pretty with bruises and teeth imprints. A _Keith was here_ brand. “No. Please. Want it, want it.”

“Want my cum?”

“Yea, baby.”

Hard to say no to a request like that, plus neither side were playing fair and Lance was this vision on his cock, brown in the skin and blue in the eyes and fucking flushed everywhere else.

Shiro dipped low, the definition of his abs pressed firm to his back and it was a beautiful feeling. “You should do it. Stuff him. Make him scream.”

He went rigid at that, heat coming up fierce and rapid in his cock.

“Shiro,” he gasped, head cocked slightly in search for Shiro’s mouth. Didn’t get it completely. Got a tiny bit a lip service before Shiro decided to nibble else where.

“Fuck him. Hard. He likes it hard.” Teeth were at his ear, biting.

The hand braced on his hip for grip changed their purpose, helped guide Keith harder and faster in Lance, made him race to cum. And Lance had the ground back under him, it made it easier for him to do him like that.

Keith smacked around for one of Lance’s hand and jammed it down where his cock slicked a messy trail of pre-cum down his navel. “Do it. Play with your cock.”

Got a bad case of the dizzy when Lance just did it, no smartass quip or anything. Sparks of electricity danced over his skin as Lance moaned and stroked feverishly, eyes on where Keith dragged in and out of his thick and ravenous.

His neck bowed, adam apple a ship in a storm right under the skin. “R-right there, baby. Fuck, so close. I’m so close, Keith.”

Keith chased the curve with his mouth, rasped out, voice just a pitch of darkness and fire severe to kill. “Me too. F-uck, gonna cum.”

Felt Shiro’s breath fan hot between his shoulder blades like a brand, he kneaded his ass and aimed his dick deep. Found his target when Keith flat out cried, wet hair flying as he threw his head back, and abused the spot savagely. His knees ached to give out, like that was a choice, Shiro didn’t let it be with his hips grinding hard on his ass.

“Come, come, come,” Shiro chanted.

Keith came first, dun, his body went stiff in his orgasm. Did pathetic little jerks and twitches but on the whole he wasn’t much use to anyone. So Lance improvised and rode frantically on his softening cock, pumping himself cruelly. “Almost there, almost there. Wait, wait.”

Shiro gave no fuck, squeezed his ass with both hands, spread him, and fucked him until he was damn ready.

Lance turned mute in his climax, bones snapping straight and then melted  into a puddle. Cum squirted in abortive pumps over his shirt.

He cradled Keith’s face through Shiro’s hard thrusts. “Doing good, baby. So good. Just a little bit more.”

“Lance, Lance,” he sobbed, sensitive and weak to each brush of Shiro’s fat cock.

Shiro curled over their body, stomach hollowing, and held Keith’s hip and pressed in one final time and filled the condom.

“I can’t believe we had sex on the floor.”

Shiro hummed, “Don’t worry, I’ll make Lance clean it up.”

Lance flipped him off, “Douchebag, really.”

 

 

 

[x]

 

 

In the technical sense, Keith was the third wheel on this bike.

His boyfriend treated him like the bike started off as a tricycle from the start and there was no bi anything. Shit was official and clear now. Also, he slept in their bedroom, a California king with a memory foam mattress and sheets made from angel’s feathers. The fucking perks, man, the perks!

His former room became partially storage and partially Blue’s cool cat pad with a towering cat tree that he and Shiro built together after four hours of marathoning Youtube videos for visual aids. Lance motivated them by randomly passing by every few minutes while Blue meowed and rubbed her body against the unassembled base of the tree.

Lance kissed Keith all the time.

Shiro developed a habit of hugging Keith from behind and braiding his hair when they were pliant and lazy in bed on Sundays.

Lance snored.

Shiro hogged the sheets.

Keith was extra grabby and clingy and molded one of them to his body at least twice in one night.

Blue formed a perfect ball wherever it was convenient. If anyone roused to a state of semi-wakefulness, Blue preyed on that poor soul for morning head bumps and scratches under her chin.

Three guys in one bedroom turned the space small but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

The whole living situation was still in the works, Keith had some demands of his own, but the tracks were in motion.

 

 

 

[x]

 

 

“So tell me again how it happened?”

“We talked—“

“Oh,” Pidge gasped and brought her hand over her chest and looked around the room as if there was a studio audience reading her reaction.

They were at Menards so none of the staff cared about their conversation but a few watched them sitting on the patio sets, worried they might mess with the display.

“Basically you did the thing that I fucking told you to do at the beginning? You know, the smart thing.”

“I’m going over to the hardware and finding a sledge hammer to bash your face in.”

“Go ahead. I’ll go and get my own weapon too. And then I want us to have a duel of fates right here. Remember this place well, Keith, it’s where you’ll die.”

A guy with ginger hair and glasses with a blue Menards vest stopped, the name tag read Matt. “Could you guys do that somewhere else? It’s a huge pain to wash blood off the fabric.”

“Could we fight outside?”

Matt shrugged. “Sure. Don’t tell my manager I said that. I can’t go back to stock at Walmart.”

“Thank you. Keith, you’ll die in the garden.”

“Okay,” he agreed, tapping out a text to Lance.

_Lance_

_Yo get creamer, lube, and some kit kats. we low._

Pidge pushed back her chair. “Cool, let’s go fight.”

 

_Keith_

_I won’t ask. I have to fight Pidge first._

_Lance_

_Slay dat hoe. Be victorious. Conquer._

_Keith_

_Inspiring 10/10_

_Lance_

_Xoxo_

“Alright, but after I need to get coffee creamer. We’re low at the house.”

She snorted as she fixed the display and palmed her wallet. “I see your channeling your inner housewife.”

“I’m grabbing a chainsaw instead,” he decided.

Pidge clapped her hands on either side of her face and walked backwards. “Oh. So scary.”

 

 

[x]

 

 

“Look, I’m not blaming anyone but no more sex in the shower. The water bill is getting really high, guys,” Shiro said at the head of the table diplomatically. He didn’t pointedly eye Lance.

Keith did, slowly, and said nothing.

“Oh, oh! So excuse me for giving you guys shower sex. I just want everyone to be fully fucked and sated every day.”

“Say that to the bill.”

“Who snitched on me?”

“Dude, we live _together_. No one snitched.”

“The betrayal,” Lance started ominously. “Under my own roof.”

“Oh Jesus,” Keith sighed, dragging his hands down his face.

“A man can’t trust no one but himself,” he continued.

Shiro talked over his gloomy monologue, “So I was thinking we’d head over to Rosa’s for tamales tonight.”

“The world is dark and full of haters who wanna throw salt in my game,” Lance preached, louder.

“So we getting two dozen?” His voice was nearly at a shout.

“Yea.”

For some reason, Lance adopted a Shakespearian dialect, “In the words of Julius Caesar, haters are gonna hate.”

“Lance, we won’t get you any tamales if you don’t stop.”

He deflated, “Fine. Get me the spicy shit. I know you white people like your mild sauce.”

“White? Dude, I’m Korean and he’s Japanese, you clown.”

“Wait, you are?”

 

 

[x]

 

 

Lance knocked on the door and said from the other side. “Hoe, you better be ready. Everyone is already trick or treating and I don’t want those little fuckers to get all the candy.”

Keith stepped out in civilian clothes. “I am dressed. I’m a sociopath.”

Lance shifted his hips and braced a hand on the points of the bone, something that was glaringly blatant and easy to see in since all he was wearing was a corset, hip hugging panties, and black stockings. “You can’t be what you are on Halloween, Keith. It defeats the purpose.”

“Ha, ha. Inventive joke.” He stared at the bulge stretching the fabric.

“It’s a sin in this house not to dress on the holy day of Halloween.” The afro on his head bobbed as he talked. His eyes were lined in heavy shadows and black liner.

Lance had the costume in store bag.

He took it, the plastic loud when his hands crinkled it. “Fine but I want cheesy crust on the pizza. And mushrooms. Can I get some beard sticks too?”

His boyfriend nodded. “Yea. Shiro’s buying anyway.”

Just then a maid with a frilly skirt and wild red curls walked in. “You guys always do this to me!”

“Are those heels hard to walk in?” Keith noticed his uneven gait.

“Yes. This is the last time I’m crossdressing for Halloween. I’m too old for this shit.”

Lance helped balance Shiro when he tried standing. He smiled down at Shiro’s massive feet jammed into black heels. “They don’t fit? Allura got the biggest size there was.”

“It hurts, Lance,” he whined.

“Just wear your combat boots instead. That should work.”

“I’m with Shiro. Can’t we be dudes next time?”

“Fine, fine. We’ll do Star Wars, geez. No wait. Marvel! Shiro will look great as Dr. Strange. I’ll be Tony and you’ll be Loki cause you’re evil.”

“Thanks,” Keith said dully.

“No problem. Get dress.” He spanked his ass. “We ride when the moon is highest and the shadows are dark.”

Keith popped his head out and shouted down the hall where Shiro still shuffled, using the walls to give him aid, as Lance sauntered smoothly to the bedroom. “Stop talking like we’re in Lord of the Rings. We’re not taking the ring back to Mordor.”

“I shall not listen to you, creature of the night!”

 

 

[x]

 

They went to the adult Halloween party, entered the dumb Halloween contest, and won by a landslide. No one batted at eye at Shiro’s battered combat boots or the tears in his panty hoes or the fact his five o’clock shadow shaded the line of his jaw. Everyone screamed at Lance’s sensual gait and his wolfish smirk when he owned the stage. Keith just tired not to think about how stupid he looked in a blazer with coattails and a sequin top but his boyfriends grabbed him all night like he was irresistible in it, so it couldn’t be nearly as horrid as he imagined.

At the end of the night, they cuddled in front of the TV too lazy for the sofa and ate pizza from the box. The wigs and shoes were discarded in the designated storage chair.

Lance laughed, smelling like sea salt and cheese pizza, as he pointed out all the cheap CGI.

Shiro snorted iced tea out his nose at the commentary.

And they’re so far from attractive right now but love lenses made Keith see the beauty in their most unglamorous moments.

He offered Shiro a napkin for his snot. “You’re gross.”

“I’m sorry! Lance, you can’t talk while I’m drinking you know that.” Shiro tried to glare through the pain in his nostrils but the menace came across more like a grumpy oversized puppy who ate his treat too quickly.

Lance’s straight face crumbled under it. “Oh man. Wooo, I’m never forgetting that.”

 

 

 

[x]

 

 

They all bought each other kinky shit for Christmas, which Lance called for the entire week prior X-Mas.

_You know, the X is for extra kinky._

_Yea, I get it, Lance you don’t have to explain._

_But you’re not laughing._

_Because it’s not funny, dude._

 The butt plug and handcuffs came in handy when Lance wanted to be ravished and at their mercy. Ugly holiday sweater really added to the festive spirit of the season when they wore that and little else, taking turns in taking Lance. The bells on Lance’s red cat sweater jingled with every thrust.

“Talk about getting into the spirit,” Keith said as he laid on his side and watched Shiro slam into Lance like a fever. The bed rocked, the frame dented the wall and the paint chipped slightly.

They were awful people to walls in general.

Lance’s laugh petered off into a ragged moan, blue eyes disappearing for a brief fraction before he snapped them wide.

He did another hybrid laugh-moan.  “Shut up. Shut up. I can’t cum laughing— ah fuck, Shiro. Like that, baby.”

He looked down where Shiro was full and thick and balls deep in his ass. Remembered how hot and wet Lance was there. How his hole sucked on his cock. Saw Shiro feeling it right now when he shuddered and his arms trembled.

Keith hiked up the sweater and pinched a brown nipple, rolled it, and then licked it wet.

Lance arched for it, brought his chest elevated so Keith could suckle on him easily.

“I think that’s a lie. Shiro?” Keith murmured over the slick peak, then went back to circling it with his tongue.

God, he fucking loved playing with Lance’s nipples. It drove him mad with lust.

Shiro bit his lip, long hair pasted to the column of his corded neck and bugling shoulders, “I think you’re on to something.”

 

 

[x]

 

 

A year in and Keith still needed a solid second to gather his bearings in the morning. Eggs, bacon, and toast coaxed out soft homey feelings in his body. The morning hushed voice lured his sleepy body into the kitchen.  _I’m a Believer_ played on low volume off Shiro’s Iphone and he bobbed his head to the beat, lifting the pan over the flames and shuffling the contents.

Naturally, Lance sang as he washed the dishes in his Spongebob underwear.

 

_And then I saw her face_

_Now I'm a believer_

_Not a trace_

_Of doubt in my mind_

_I'm in love_

_I'm a believer_

_I couldn't leave her_

_If I tried_

 

 

Lance looked over his shoulder, smile bright and brilliant, and flicked water at Keith. Two droplets caught him on his cheek and tracked trails down. Shiro flashed him the cooling strips of bacon and wiggled his brows.

“Come to me, Keith. I have bacon.”

“What the fuck,” Lance complained, elbow deep in soap subs and pruney fingers. “I want the first kiss.”

Shiro grabbed the plate and fanned the scent. “Mmm. Yum, yum bacon.”

“Shiro wins,” he caved and kissed his muscled head boyfriend on the lips.

Water sloshed over the sink lip. “So rude. I do the dishes and get nothing for my manual labor.”

Keith walked over to the sore loser and locked lips again and added a little groping to appease his needy Spanish boy.

“ _Mas, mas por favor,_ ” he rasped.

It felt like paradise with the running water, clinking plates, the silver forks in the drawer, breakfast in the process.

He heard the words from the speaker again,

 

_I’m in love_

_I’m a believer_

_Not a trace_

_Of doubt in my mind_

**Author's Note:**

> this was a trip. i planned for 9k, you see how well i follow my own word. i had so much fun with this tho! 
> 
> comments and kudos make me smile and motivate me to do more shit like this.
> 
> tumblr: pro-derp  
> twitter: https://twitter.com/angry_latte (i'm actually very active and not a lazy human being on this)


End file.
